


Dettlaff/OC Oneshots

by midwinter_fox



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: 69, Adoption, Bodily Noises, Bullying, But I put them together for organizational purposes, By That I Mean Queefing, Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff, It happens, M/F, Massage, Masturbation, Nudity, Oral Sex, Smut, Some BDSM, Tags May Change, There's both NSFW and SFW in here, lots of smut, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwinter_fox/pseuds/midwinter_fox
Summary: I was originally just going to post my oneshots one at a time, but then I figured there were so many under a similar/the same category that I may as well turn it all into one work. Lots of smut and fluff, and my tags will change as I add more chapters.





	1. Soothed

If Dettlaff had to pick one thing he loved the most about his lover, it would have to be her skilled hands. They were soft and small and were the only things that could tame even his most explosive bouts of anger.

They were on the banks of Lake Muredach, the breeze keeping them cool on an otherwise warm day. They weren’t the only ones there, but they’d found a spot isolated from the rest of the people taking the chance to enjoy the summer day. Leonore busied herself with a flower chain, making Dettlaff partake by handing her another from a little pile when she held out her hand for it. The day was peaceful, and it was one of those things that he wouldn’t change for the world.

The daisy chain gradually grew, and Dettlaff watched as her hands worked diligently. Now and then he’d make sure to brush his fingers against hers when giving her another flower. She would grace him with a smile each time, and though the touch made him crave for more, he left her alone to sketch. Most were of her; he’d often practice by trying to recreate her every feature from memory. This time he worked on the lake, the children playing along the banks being unknowing muses.

He was close to being finished; it had taken quite a while, but only because every time he tried to capture one of the children’s features, they’d move in such a way that he’d have to wait until they faced him again. Every now and then Leonore looked over at the sketch pad, smile, then praise his work. It never failed to give him a rush of pride.

Just as he was finalizing one child’s details, he looked up and frowned at the sight. The young boy was being shoved to the ground, effectively lighting a spark of anger in him. It was a disgusting display, the older boy now kicking dirt at him. Without realizing it, his hand snapped the piece of charcoal he’d been using in half. Leonore raised her head at the sound of it, then looked over to see what he was seething at.

A third child had joined the one bullying the clearly youngest one on the ground. As though reading his mind, Leonore abandoned her flower chain to place a hand on his tense shoulder. His eyes finally tore away from the scene unfolding across the lake, landing on Leonore’s concerned expression. For a moment, he forgot why he was angry, tension in his shoulders melting away when her hand squeezed gently.

“Love, they’re kids. There’s nothing to do about it until their parents get involved.” She was right, but it didn’t make him any less angry. Knowing Dettlaff would go back to sulking, his lover took the sketchbook from him to lay it on the ground. She shifted so she was sat atop his lap, both her hands on his shoulders to knead away the last of the stress. He couldn’t see what happened to the child now unless he removed Leonore from his lap, but her hands rendered him all but useless.

There was no longer anything in the world except the two of them - she knew just how to touch him to make him forget his troubles. His eyes drifted closed, but all too soon she stopped and stood.

“What–”

“Come, love. We should head home. We’ve been here for a few hours now,” she held out the very hand that had caressed him so  _perfectly_ , but instead of using her to stand, he took her hand and kissed her knuckle. The blush that rose to her cheeks made him smile as he stood, but his eyes betrayed him when he couldn’t help but glance back in the direction of the three young boys.

They were playing again like they had been when Dettlaff had first gotten there with his beloved. It was baffling to him that the youngest - a good two heads shorter than the other two boys - would recover from being kicked at to return to playing with his tormentors. He wasn’t able to say or do anything before Leonore took his hand and led him away.

—

Had he known that  _this_ was what awaited him upon returning home, he’d have left hours ago.

Upon her insistence, he undressed as soon as they crossed the threshold to their bedroom and laid back onto the bed. He reached out to her when she climbed atop him, but she reached over him to grab something from their nightstand. Had she disrobed as well, his mouth would be pressing kisses to every inch of her he could reach. Instead, he settled for running his hand up her thigh, but when she retrieved whatever it was she’d been reaching for, she pushed his hand away.

“Turn over, please,” she requested, though it almost sounded like a demand. Not sure what she had in mind, he complied, but he had to readjust his already enthusiastic erection so as not to lay on it uncomfortably.  He’d whole-heartedly thought she was going to ride him into the night, but he wasn’t disappointed when he felt the cool sensation of oil dripping onto his back.

“What are y _oouuhhnn_ …” Dettlaff devolved into a moan when she dug her palms into the taut muscle between his shoulder blades. She said nothing, only focusing on his body with her hands. He’d be lying if he said he’d have preferred the sex - this was undoubtedly one of the best sensations he could’ve asked for. Every detail of his shoulders, back, and even his rear were traced by her skilled fingers. She was especially attentive to his hums and sighs and groans - if there was a spot in particular that he grew ever louder for, she would dig in until he was all but panting for her.

Centuries of stress melted from his body. Sometimes she’d make his eyes roll, other times his toes would curl; it was a pleasure he knew without a doubt in his mind that he’d ask for again. When her mouth started to follow her hands, he groaned in approval. Her lips played with the curve of his ear when she finally spoke to him, her voice a rough whisper.

“You like that?”

“ _Mmm…_ ” He wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to say actual words when she was still actively pressing into his shoulders.

“You feel any better?”

“ _Mhmm.._ ”

“Good. You need to relax more. I know you want to save every child what gets roughed up when playing with their friends, but you can’t save them all.”

Ah, so that’s why she was doing this. He didn’t object, though he wanted to. It wasn’t right for that young boy to get beat on by those who were clearly bigger and stronger than he was, but he knew she was right. Had he made a scene it would undoubtedly have either escalated or resulted in him only scaring all of them off. Instead of bothering to argue, he let his eyes close and focused on her hands. It wasn’t difficult - though he’d momentarily been upset again, it was gone within seconds. Her hands were decidedly magic, he thought.

She’d worked her way from his shoulders down to his feet, then back up before urging him to turn back over. He did as she asked and sighed in contentment into a kiss. As much as he wanted to take her in his arms, they didn’t exactly want to move; he was far too relaxed. Again she began to massage him, this time working on the muscles in his chest. Her touch was tender, but enough pressure was applied to evoke more hums and sighs.

Just as he’d again let himself start to doze, his eyes snapped open when he felt her lips suck a hickey into his thigh. While on his stomach, he’d relaxed to the point that the earlier arousal he’d had faded in favor of giving in to her massage. With her mouth now on his member, it was only seconds before that arousal came back in full force.

Seems he’d get what he’d initially hoped for after all.


	2. Messy

Leonore rode her vampiric lover in earnest, breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of her hips. She would crush their lips together every few bounds, but would pull back when her lungs struggled for air. Her hands were on his shoulders for support while his were on her hips to help lift her off of his lap only to all but slam her back down.

Dettlaff’s hips ground against hers deliciously, and it took all he had to keep from finishing before she’d had her own release. Everything about her was exquisite, and he covered her neck and chest with kisses when she wasn’t stealing his mouth with hers. She panted and moaned for him, and at some point she ran her hands through his hair and rested her elbows on his shoulders instead. The new angle made him groan ever louder with her, his face now buried in her chest while her nails dug into his scalp.

When she was finally about to come undone, he could hear and feel it. Her core started to tighten and her movements were broken and shaky. She was so close, and he wanted to push her past that point of no return. One of his hands found her plush rear, his other slipping between them to find the tiny bud that always drove her mad with pleasure. As soon as his lips and teeth latched onto one of her pert nipples, she came with a wail, voice bouncing off the walls and undoubtedly attracting anyone who had the displeasure of being outside their room.

Her cries were what brought him to his release, his seed filling her until it spilled out along the shaft of his member. There would be a significant mess to clean up, but for now they both collapsed onto the bed. She lay with her face against his naked chest and sighed when he kissed the top of her head. They would deal with the mess once they’d come down from their high.

When she finally regained enough strength in her thighs to lift herself off of him, more of his cum dripped out from her womanhood only to land either on him or the sheets beneath him. She never failed to be embarrassed about the normal functions of her body, her cheeks and ears going pink when she looked down to see the mess she’d made. Before she could try to apologize, he stole her words with a kiss.

“You’ve a bad habit of apologizing for everything,” he mumbled against her lips, their foreheads now pressed together as he pulled her tighter to him.

“Well, it’s getting  _everywhere_ ,” she responded with a frown. “Have you been holding back on me?”

Now she was smiling, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It is what happens when I see so little of you for a week.”

“Dettlaff, it’s been  _two days._ ” He shrugged; it felt like a week to him. Just one day without her was like an eternity he couldn’t survive through. It was her turn to laugh, and she peppered his face with kisses before she finally left his lap to help him clean up.


	3. Secrets

As far as secrets went, there was nothing Dettlaff kept from his lover. Keeping secrets was akin to telling lies, and it was something he of which he simply wasn’t capable. There were, however, some things that he didn’t tell her, but that was altogether different.

Right?

His sketchbook was very closely guarded - he either kept it on him or in a locked drawer at all times. It was the only way he knew that he wouldn’t lose it, or worse, that it might fall into the wrong hands. There wasn’t anything particularly valuable in the book, but he knew it would be difficult to explain should anyone find the more  _personal_ drawings he kept in the back of it.

Leonore knew the art book was precious to him, but she so greatly admired the treasures inside. Few times was she permitted to flip through and praise him for the beautiful still-lifes and portraits done masterfully by his hand. It was very apparent that he spent years on that book, but despite her praise, he never let her look past a certain point.

She would always thumb through to the middle of the sketchbook, only for him to insist that he needed it for some thing or another. He’d then lock it away, the key always kept in his pocket. It was infuriating to her, but she wouldn’t try to argue or force him to let her finish flipping through it.

There came a point when her curiosity came to be too much - she HAD to know what else was in that book. While Dettlaff was away, she tried to open the drawer to no avail. Once again, it was locked tight with the key no doubt in the pocket of his trousers. The lock wasn’t complex, and she could probably find a piece of wire to try to coax it open. She refused to let him hide that damned book from her any longer.

He kept a workshop in a small building just outside - what was once a shed was turned into a sort of art studio. He kept all manner of projects there, most of them being toys in ill repair or tiny figures he’d carved in his spare time. There were plenty of wires there, and so she found one that would suffice and returned to the house to try to plunder that which Dettlaff held dear.

—

She heard the door to their home click shut, but she paid it no mind. When Dettlaff discovered her sitting on their bed, open book in her lap, he initially thought nothing of it.

Until he saw the open drawer.

His eyes snapped back to her - her hand was over her mouth and her fingers tracing over, well,  _her._  For a brief moment, his eyes had gone wide, the realization hitting him like a pile of bricks.

“Leonore..?” She didn’t answer him, but as he stepped closer, he could see her face was red and eyes watering. On her lap was his sketchbook open to the back of it, the near perfect image of her sleeping naked on the page. He wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth was dry.

Did… Did he upset her..?

When she finally closed the book, it occurred him that she had seen  _all_ of it. There was perhaps a sketch per day that they had been together, and she had seen every last one. It wasn’t his intention to hide it from  _her,_ but the more doubts that crept into his mind, the more self-conscious he became about revealing it. The look on her face now was the one he feared he’d see.

“I can explain–”

“You did all of these..?” she asked, her voice full of emotion, but of what emotion, he was unsure.

“Yes.”

“And they’re all..  _Me?_ ”

He nodded, unsure of what her reaction would be. She surprised him with a smile, then set the book to the side and walked forth to wrap her arms about him. At first he wasn’t too sure what had just happened but embraced her all the same.

“You are.. _not_ upset?”

“No!” she exclaimed, looking back up at him. “What made you think I was upset??”

“You looked as though you were about to cry.” There was still moisture in her eyes, but she wiped it away with her sleeve.

“Well, yes, but only because they’re beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She kissed him, a wave of relief crashing over him as she did. “Why have you never shown them to me before?”

Well,“ for the first time since she’d met him, he actually looked sheepish, "I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

Her smile told him everything he needed to know - she wasn’t upset and she actually adored them. It was like she’d never seen herself in a mirror before. What made them so beautiful was the woman in the sketch, not the hand that created it. At least, that was how he thought of it.

“I love them, Dettlaff. Though, some of them are uh.. Well, I don’t think I’ve seen my own crotch in such detail.” He was glad to see she didn’t respond poorly. At first he thought she might think of him as some sort of perverse voyeur, but he was grateful to see she didn’t actually mind his attention to her detail.

“I spend plenty of time familiarizing myself with your body,” he admitted, though that was obvious with the frequency at which they made love.

“I can tell,” her smile suddenly turned wicked. “Would you like some new…  _Inspiration?_ ”

She didn’t have to ask twice.


	4. Change of Pace

Aside from Leonore, Dettlaff had only lain with one other woman: Syanna. Anything he did to Leonore he’d only ever learned from Syanna’s coaxing. She was a fantastic lover, but she always put her own pleasure over his own. He didn’t fault her for it - it was simply how she was, and he hadn’t minded. It made him skilled at finding the sweetest spots on a woman’s body. On several occasions, he’d effectively brought about Leonore’s undoing with fingers alone.

Many times, she would try to touch and please him, but it only ever turned into a power struggle with him coming out on top. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her touching him - it was quite the opposite. He was just so used to giving that he never considered he could be receiving. At least, not until Leonore confronted him about it.

They laid in bed, clothes scattered about the room with nothing between them but air. His body hovered over her, lips teasing and suckling at ever inch of her breasts, and though her wanton moans told him he was doing quite well, she gave his hair a sharp tug.

“ _Dettlaff.._ Gods, Dettlaff stop _, please.._ ” She was panting for him, and initially he thought perhaps she simply wanted him to move on to another part of her. When her hand in his hair yanked again, he finally stopped and frowned.

“What? Have I done something wrong?” Concern laced his voice. Not once in all their days they spent in bed together had he ever hurt her. However, she shook her head and smiled.

“No, love. I just wanted to try something different if that’s alright by you.”

“Of course, what would you have me do?” Again, she shook her head.

“Nothing. I’d like you to lay back.”

So she wanted to be the one on top, he thought. Dettlaff complied, rolling onto his back so she could climb astride him. To his surprise, she did not do as he expected; instead, she made herself comfortable between his legs.

Before he could ask what she had in mind, she dragged her tongue across his thigh, leaving a wet trail up to his balls. When her lips gently teased the sensitive skin, a debauched moan forced its way from deep in his chest. It was more a growl than a moan, but she could tell he approved when a hand flew to her hair and his claws tangled in the locks.

Her hands pushed at his thighs, forcing them apart further and allowing her better access to the gift that laid before her. His toes curled when she gingerly sucked a testicle into her mouth. Her hands kept his legs from closing, but he wanted nothing more than to spread for her further. Never has he had the pleasure of  _anyone’s_ mouth paying so much attention to him.

The sensation of Leonore teasing him like this was maddening, but he did what he could to allow her to do as she pleased. He was painfully hard by this point and wanted nothing more than to throw her against a wall and simply  _fuck her._ His patience was wearing thin, that is, until she started to use her fingers.

Using the ejaculate leaking down his shaft, she slicked her finger and prodded ever so tenderly against his anus. Instinct made him tense up, but when she licked the rest of his precum from his throbbing member, he began to relax. This was entirely new to him, albeit not unwanted.

When she finally managed to slip her finger into him - but before another desperate moan could fly from his mouth - he bit his own hand to keep it at bay. If he was being honest, her ministrations made him feel deliciously  _filthy._ Leonore seemed to know when he was ready for more without having to ask for approval; her finger began to move slowly in and out of him. It took so much control not to thrash under her touch that he had to dig his claws into the sheets.

Over time he became more accustomed to her penetration, going from muffled mewls to praise and pleas. Every appeal for more was met in kind, either by her finger reaching deeper into him or her head bobbing on his cock faster. Watching her swallow him in such a manner was possibly the most erotic thing he had the pleasure of seeing, but her hand reminded him to keep still if he wanted her to continue.

Leonore watched in wicked amusement as Dettlaff went from gripping her hair, to gripping the bedding, to covering his face with his arm as he lost himself to her onslaught of pleasure. She knew what she was doing and she was  _good_ at it. There was one spot inside him that she knew would bring about his sexual demise, but she was enjoying the show too much to end it just yet. He begged, pleaded, almost cried for more, but it wasn’t until he was a desperate mess that she finally decided to give him what he wanted.

Her finger pressed and  prodded until she found the tight knot that was his prostate, then he spiraled out of control. His back arched, toes curled, and mouth opened in a silent cry, but no sound came out. Instead, he emitted a frenzied gasp, no doubt for the breath he didn’t realize he held. His seed flooded her mouth, choking her as it shot down her throat. She recovered, but not before a few drops of cum leaked past her lips.

There were spots in Dettlaff’s vision; never had he been so thoroughly spent. He looked down at Leonore just in time to see her lick up the escaped seed from his softening member. She’d removed her hand from him and wiped it clean before wiping the seed from her chin then licking it up with the very digit that had just been inside him. It was perverse, and he didn’t know whether to be disgusted by her bawdy display or to take her like the whore she was for him.

His body voted for the latter; he’d show her just how good he was at playing her lascivious games.


	5. Positioning

Every which way that allowed Dettlaff to make love to his Leonore was his favorite, but the ones he  _particularly_ enjoyed were the ones that made her cry. At first it alarmed him, but he was met with an almost outright fury when he stopped to make sure she was okay.

There was one time when she’d slapped him, and really, it would’ve only served to excite him further had he not been so concerned for her well-being.

However, not wanting to incite her wrath, he’d eventually learned that tears during sex was a  _very_ good thing. She never actually sobbed; no, there were simply tears in her eyes that would at times roll down her cheeks. It was when he saw those tears that he’d pleased her to the fullest extent, and to bring her to that point was far more satisfying than most anything else.

The first occurrence, he had her legs wrapped about his waist with his hands on either side of her head, hips rocking against hers at a leisurely pace. She hummed and moaned her approval, and he enjoyed her hands running along his arms and shoulders. At times she would cup his face in her hands, prompting him to kiss her senselessly. It worked every time, and he was proud to be able to please her so wholly.

Just as he began to pick up pace, her ankles slipped from their lock against his back; her legs couldn’t find purchase with their bodies slicked with sweat, so she brought them up to hold onto her thighs. The shift made her nearly  _scream_. He had to stop to make sure she was okay, but she protested vehemently.

“ _NO. DON’T STOP._ ” Initially, he hesitated, but when she ground her hips upward into him, he immediately understood.

His hips pulled away only to snap back into her experimentally; that was when the tears leapt to her eyes. Not willing to risk it, he removed himself from her and made to kiss the tears away, but she pushed him back and growled at him.

“ _ **I told you not to fucking stop.**_ ”

It was obvious he was thoroughly confused.

“Leonore, you are crying.”

“Yes, and if you don’t  **fuck**  me like you were, I’m going to make  _you_ cry.” The sudden anger in her was like a culture shock. She’d never been so  _furious_ with him to the point that she was swearing at him. As reluctant as he was, he acquiesced. With only slight readjustment, he was back to being inside of her. She brought her legs back up as they’d been and to keep them in place, he kept his arms beneath them.

When he started to move again, she all but howled, prompting him to return to his earlier pace. Their skin slapped together as he thrust himself in and out of her with abandon. The sounds she made reminded him of an animal in heat, and this time when the tears sprang to her eyes, he thrust harder. It almost felt like he was brutalizing her, but her nails digging into his biceps told him that he must be doing something right.

He’d lost count of the number of times she’d come undone. She’d reached the peak only to fall and climb right back up immediately after. It was the most he’d coaxed her climax from her in a single bout of sex, and he found it extremely gratifying.

When it was finally his turn finish within her, she was a panting, crying mess. Tears and sweat had her hair glued to her face, but he brushed it away tenderly as he pulled out of her. As soon as he released her legs, she let them flop uselessly to the bed. It was amusing to say in the least.

“Are you alright?” he asked, laying beside her and pulling her close. “I did not hurt you, did I?”

“Oh  _Gods_ no. That was, without doubt, the most  _amazing_   orgasm I’ve felt. Ever.” She spoke breathlessly, and a touch of pride swelled up in him.

“I am fairly certain there was more than one.”

“Hell, I dunno. It was like constantly flying, then I’d suddenly fall only for my wings to pick me back up again. You’ve no clue how absolutely amazing that felt.”

“I will be sure to do it again next time.” His hand was tracing circles on the smooth skin of her hip, but she shook her head violently.

“ _Fuck_ no! I can’t move my legs as it is! You won’t be getting  _anything_  out of me for a while, love.” She made him laugh, but she playfully slapped his arm. “It’s not funny! I need a bath, but my lower half feels like it’s made of jelly.”

He still laughed, but this time he kissed her shoulder then stood.

“I shall prepare a bath then.”

“I just said–”

“And carry you to it,” he cocked a brow, daring her to object; she couldn’t very well escape him, now could she? So, she sighed in defeat.

“Fine.” Her pout was adorable, and he had to steal one more kiss from her before leaving the room.

Oh he’d definitely be using that position MUCH more often.


	6. Embarrassment

Love-making was very serious business for Dettlaff. It was like making art the way he carefully picked and chose the spots he’d manipulate, causing his lover to unravel. Leonore’s spent form was always a beautiful display, her hair wild against the pillow, chest heaving and face glowing. It was quite possibly his favorite masterpiece.

However, one thing that takes the surrealism out of everything is that, well, bodies are strange. Sometimes they had to stop to allow for her to take a bathroom break, effectively putting a halt to the momentum they’d had going; other times, his stomach would grumble loudly, indicating they should probably eat before they continue.

Every time something unpredictable happened, it never failed to embarrass her. There were moments where she refused to continue their intimacy in favor of hiding her face and curling up into herself from the sheer humiliation. What she didn’t realize was that he understood.

Bodies are weird.

He was no stranger to the occasional odd noise or function, but he always brushed it off without a second thought. Why it flustered her so thoroughly was confusing, but he’d be damned if he was going to let her accidental drooling or the inappropriately loud push of air stop him from making her feel good.

As difficult as it was for her, he found that the best way to help her through it was to encourage her to laugh it off.

They had been deep in the throes of passion, just moments from him thrusting himself into her. Her knees were digging into the mattress with her face buried in the pillow to muffle her moans, and just as he’d begun to press into her womanhood, a small bit of air rushed past his member and elicited a  _very_ unflattering sound.

She froze, and before he could simply ignore it as another perfectly normal bodily response, she dropped onto her side and curled into a ball, her face hidden in her hands.

“Oh Gods.. I’m  _SO_ _fuckin’ sorry.”_ From between her fingers, he could tell there was a deep rosy pink dusted across her face. He sighed in exasperation.

“This has happened before, liefje. You need not apologize every time your body does something you do not want it to.”

“I can’t help it,” she mumbled, her voice thick with emotion. “It just feels so  _shameful.._ ”

The last thing he needed was for her to cry from embarrassment, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He tried running a hand over her hip and thigh, but she wouldn’t move. No amount of gentle caressing was giving him the needed response, so he resorted to drastic measures.

Carefully, so as not to scratch her, he dug his fingers into her side. Just as he’d hoped, she thrashed, effectively breaking her fetal position. She still pouted up at him.

“Dettlaff,  _dooon’t!_ ” she whined at him, but he refused. With a wicked smirk, he leaned down to drag his teeth against her ribcage. She gasped then cried out, but then devolved into shrieking laughter.

She begged, cried, and even threatened, but he wouldn’t let up his assault. He spent his time finding  _every_ spot that tickled until she was panting and trying to hit him to fend him off. It wasn’t until a few tears streamed down her face that he finally stopped, grinning down at her.

It wasn’t the same afterglow, but she looked beautiful all the same - hair wild, chest heaving, and face glowing. When she finally managed to catch her breath, he kissed her lovingly. She responded in kind, much to his relief, and allowed for him to finally resume their previous activities before Leonore’s body decided to betray her.

It became a sort of routine to remind her to relax - that he wasn’t going to judge or mock her because of something that happened to everyone, including him. After a while, her initial response was to laugh, and it made her all the more beautiful to him.


	7. Appearance

Dettlaff prided himself on keeping a clean and respectable appearance; even his body hair was well groomed. Keeping himself presentable, however, wasn’t easy. Being a vampire made it impossible to use a mirror as a frame of reference, pun intended. Usually Regis was more than happy to help with his facial hair, what with him being both barber and vampire - he of all people understood. It was reassuring to know he had a steady hand with such things as well. However, when Leonore came into his life, she insisted on helping him herself.

It wasn’t that she didn’t do a good enough job. In fact, she was actually nearly as skilled as Regis when it came to shaves and trims. Sometimes though, she got a bit difficult. 

“Aw, c'mon! I like the fuzz though!”

“But I do not. If you will not help me, then I will go to Regis.” She whined in protest and took his face between her hands, course hair starting to sprout along his chin, jaw, and lip. He didn’t like how rough it felt and preferred smooth skin to the prickly feeling of a fresh beard. 

“ _Please_  keep it? Just for a little while! I wanna see what you look like with a full beard. Besides,” her imploring smile now became a devilish grin, “I hear it feels  _wonderful_  to be eaten by a man with some hair on his face.”

He faltered, for a moment actually considering letting his facial hair grow out. With a shake of his head he snapped himself out of it; he was _not_ going to let her seduce him into growing a beard. 

“No. It makes me look unruly and I detest the texture of it.” With another whine she softly rubbed the scruff on his jaw with her palm. 

It wasn’t just that he looked unkempt with the hair on his face. He knew that, much like the hair just above his ears, there would be silver intermingled with the black. Some part of him deep down didn’t like that it made him look so  _old_. He was a vampire, therefore he had the blessing of immortality, but that didn’t mean he looked ageless. There had been a time when Syanna had commented that he looked like her father and quite angrily demanded that he be rid of it forthwith. That memory stuck with him, and he did  _not_  want a similar reaction from Leonore.

Her pout was pathetic, reminding him of some small, defenseless animal he’d seen out in the rain. As much as he wanted to be firm on the subject, the manipulative quivering of her lip made his resolve collapse.

“ _Fine_ ,” he sighed in exasperation. “But only a day.”

“Make it two and I’ll ride you into the sunset.”

A pause, then another sigh.

“Two then.”

—

The first day was by far the longest, with most of his time spent scratching at the agitated skin of his jowls. As if he needed another reason to hate it, he was reminded that letting the hair grow in itched horribly. A few times he’d nicked himself with his claws, but even as the small cuts healed, the itching never ceased. 

He’d forgotten how quickly the hair grew for him. By the end of the night, it felt like it’d grown an entire eighth of an inch. The only good thing that came of it was the constant affection Leonore gave him. There were times when she’d even slap his hand away to scratch his chin for him, an overall pleasant experience to say in the least. If ever there was an objection to his appearance though, she never voiced it. 

Leonore’s kisses felt strange when she purposefully planted them over his growing beard. He was sorely starting to miss how they felt on his smooth skin, but he’d promised to let it grow for two entire days. 

By the second day, it had already started to feel thick, but his lover assured him that it was only because he wasn’t used to it any more. She was right, of course, but he still couldn’t help glancing at the mirror of her vanity, impossibly hoping that he might finally see for himself what he looked like. Of course, the mirror never revealed its secrets to him, but for some reason he kept hoping. 

The itching had finally started to fade by midday, but only a bit. Thanks to Leonore’s very impudent insistence, he left the house with her to join her on an outing. She claimed to have a surprise for him, but all he could feel was self-conscious. Ignoring the possibility of eyes judging his countenance as he passed, he allowed her to lead him by the arm through town. His mind was elsewhere, trying not to let himself get worked up over looking so improper out in public. When she stopped him, he looked up to realize they’d stopped at an art studio, one that belonged specifically to someone specializing in portraits. 

At first when she tried to lead him inside, he tugged back. He didn’t want to cause a scene, but his eyes silently begged for her not to drag him in there. Unfortunately, he would not win that non-verbal argument, as she walked behind and actually pushed him inside. 

—

It was several excruciatingly long hours before Dettlaff was finally free to leave. He stepped out for air and to watch the sun set while Leonore paid the painter for his canvas. It was ridiculous, he thought, that she would go so far. Now he had to live with the shame of seeing his shabby face immortalized in paints. When she left the studio, he was silently seething. He’d played along only so he wouldn’t anger his lover, but now that it was over he wanted to see what all the fuss was about. However, she kept the canvas covered. 

When they finally got home, Dettlaff excused himself, intending to rid himself of the hair on his face once and for all. If she didn’t want to help him, then he’d do it himself, but she put a hand on his arm to stop him. 

“Love, please? I’d like you to see the painting.” Her soft voice only soothed his raw nerves slightly, but either way he followed her to the bedroom so she could reveal the artwork she’d bought. Once there, she coaxed him to the bed and had him sit down to wait. He obliged and watched her set up the canvas against her vanity mirror then pull off the paper wrapping. 

It was strange, seeing himself like this. The pose they’d maintained for so very long was, admittedly, well worth the discomfort. She stood in the foreground with one of Dettlaff’s hands on her waist and the other pressing her hand to his lips. They had to stand the entire time, resulting in Leonore complaining the entire walk back home, though he was largely unaffected by it. 

What intrigued him most was how his face looked with the short hairs sprouting from it. He didn’t look nearly as haggard as he’d envisioned, and he could feel the smugness radiating off his woman when he had nothing horrible to say about it. 

“Well? How does it look?” Her arms were crossed over her chest, making her look very imperious indeed. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of being right, so he decided a distraction would be his best bet. 

Without a word, he stood then circled around his lover to wrap both of his arms about her waist. He placed a kiss to her neck and relished in her soft giggles. Though he’d been very reluctant at first, he had to admit that even the definite grey hairs didn’t bother him much neither. He almost looked regal in the portrait, and if Leonore didn’t deem the silver strands worth mentioning, then maybe it wasn’t so bad.

“I am still going to have it shaven in the morning,” he mumbled against her neck, earning him a stubborn gripe from the woman in his embrace. 

“Why though?? You look very handsome with it, and I love how it feels against my skin.”

“It is still very uncomfortable.” When she pouted, he kissed her neck again, this time making sure to rub the scruff of his jaw against her. “However, I think you mentioned something about wanting me to eat you?”

Her startled squeak when she felt his sharp teeth graze teasingly against her skin was the only authorization he needed. Tonight, she would be  **devoured.**


	8. Perfect

It took some work, but one of the things Dettlaff had to teach his lover was that she had no reason to be self-conscious. He loved her body for all of its flaws as well as its perfections. Never, in all of his years, had he seen the perfect woman. At least, not in regards to physical impurities. As far as he was concerned, Leonore was perfect, and he made sure to express as much when he laid her down to shower her in affection.

Some days she was more timid than others. Usually she was more than happy to display herself for him in bed. However, the days she spent time out in town were the days she came home with doubts in her mind.

She would see mature women with elegant frocks and intricate laces, their curves set in place meticulously with expensive corsets while she spent most of her time wearing more conservative garments. Other times she would spend time eating at the inn, only to bear witness to all manner of men ogling the low necklines of the barmaids and giving them slaps to the rear in lewd displays of appreciation.

By the time she returned to their abode, she walked with her arms crossed protectively over herself. When asked what was wrong, she shrugged and excused herself to sulk in the bedroom. One day Dettlaff decided he’d get to the root of the issue.

When he entered the room, she lay on her side, a book in front of her face although she was not focused on the words on the page. She didn’t look up, sighing as her eyes scanned the page without actually reading. No doubt she’d have to go back and read the passages over again, much to her own irritation.

He sat beside her, a hand resting on her knee and tracing small circles into the dress that covered it.

“Something troubles you, liefje.” It was a statement of fact, but there was a hidden request in his voice. He needed to know what was wrong.

“No, it’s nothing, really. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” he inquired, now tenderly rubbing her thigh with his hand. It was meant to soothe and nothing more.

For a moment, Leonore went silent, but when her vampire lover did not move, she sighed and caved.

“What makes me so attractive to you?” His hand stilled as confusion settled over him. Hadn’t he made it obvious?

“What do you mean? I love everything about you, Leonore.” She wasn’t satisfied with his answer and showed as much with her sigh.

“I dunno.. I see all these ladies out in town with their thin waists and revealing dresses, but you chose  _me_. I’m nothing compared to them.” Anger coursed through him, but he schooled his expression so as not to alarm her.

“Look at me,” he grumbled, the roughness of his voice making her tear her eyes from her book. The look in his was almost desperate, and she wondered if she’d said anything to upset him. They were silent for a few moments until he sighed as though to compose himself.

“Have you truly no clue as to the extent of my feelings for you? The desire and affection I try endlessly to shower upon you every night? Is it not enough?”

Shame crept onto her face, but he refused to let her break his gaze. She was speechless, so he took the initiative to show her what he meant.

A hand trailed down from her thigh to reach her feet, where he removed her shoes and made quick work of her stockings. He placed a kiss to her ankle while his fingers traced along her heel, then her small toes. She was still able to fit in children’s shoes, and he found her petite feet to be adorable.

His lips wandered up her calf, lightly toned from how often she leaves to take long walks through the woods. Her legs were still plush, but she was fit. One hand pushed her dress up over her hips so he could trail kisses up past her knee and across her thick thighs. A soft sigh escaped her lips when he pressed his mouth against her clothed mound, but he made no move to turn this into a sexual experience.

Instead, he urged her into an upright position so he may help her undress; her undergarments remained in place though the rest of her clothes now lay discarded on the floor. He laid her back down, but not before giving her cheek a soft caress and a light kiss. Her body was warm as she responded to his affections, but he kept her hands from wandering. This moment was entirely about her.

“You fret over not having a thin waist, but you forget that all of those women adorn corsets so as to hide what they perceive to be imperfections. I could not possibly love your curves more than I do now.” He pressed kisses over her hips, then her belly; she was right in thinking she was by no means thin, but when he held her close and felt her body mold against his, he couldn’t be happier. That is, she wasn’t fat neither, but for someone of her short stature, she was definitely thicker set.

“When I hold you at night, I feel more complete in that moment than I’ve felt in my life. I would not have you change for the world.”

His attention went from her cushy sides to her breasts, which he lavished with his lips and tongue. She moaned and mewled for him, but when she tried to run a hand through his hair, he took her wrists and pressed them back down into the bed.

“I love how buxom you are. The curve of your breasts always leave me wanting to explore every inch.” The blush on her cheeks left him feeling nothing but adoration for her. How she could be so blatantly beautiful and yet so modest made his heart swell. She didn’t feel a need to strut about like other women with their coiffed hair and powdered faces. No, she was natural and so very  _real._

Once satisfied he’d covered both breasts with the appropriate amount of attention, he finally placed open-mouthed kisses to her neck and shoulders. She panted in response, her back arching so she could touch more of him.

“Now your face. You’ve eyes the color of summer as it transitions into autumn. I find myself lost in them more times than I can count, though I find myself more often lost in your kiss.” To prove his point, he pressed his lips to hers, pouring all of his love into their embrace. Everything in him wanted so desperately for her to see and feel that she was all he wanted and needed in his life. After suffering through unspeakable heartbreak, he found the one person who could melt his troubles, ease his fears, and remind him of the beauty of life with love.

Her emotions got the best of her like they usually did, and he found tears intermingling with the taste of her lips. He kissed away the tears as they fell, a hand releasing hers so he may stroke her cheek with his thumb. She may be silently weeping, but the smile on her face was so full of love he felt his chest may burst at the sight.

When they finally made love that night, he made sure each moment of reentry was followed by words of praise. He took his time with her, making certain that she never forget just how beautiful she was to him.


	9. Self-Pleasure

Leonore had returned to her childhood home in Novigrad a week ago, assuring she would be back after no more than five days. Dettlaff was restless and irritable, but Regis stayed by his side to ensure he didn’t try to follow after her.

She had insisted that she go alone, saying she had family matters to attend to, but not what it was she was actually doing. He trusted her, but it was a long journey, even by horseback. The vampire told himself over and over in his head that she would be safe and that she would return soon.

Not only was he an emotional wreck without his mate, but he was a physical wreck too. He missed her touch, her smell, her voice - it was driving him mad to not have her when everything screamed in need for her. Regis was good company, but his needs could only be met by Leonore and her alone.

He’d resorted to lying in her spot in bed at night, breathing in her scent that lingered on her pillow. This was getting out of hand, but nothing else appealed to him. Not only did he feel lost and alone, but he ached for her like nothing else. His mind lingered on memories of her like she was lost to him forever, rather than taking longer than anticipated to return home. Initially he’d have thought she was dead, but he was assured that should such a thing happen, the birds would let them know.

Thus, he waited, one hand under Leonore’s pillow and his mind trying not to send him into a panic. Her scent was calming, much like her hands. With how long he’d gone without making love to her, just the very thought of her hands made him shudder in longing. The things she could do to him with those hands had arousal pooling in his gut. He groaned and buried his head under her pillow, but the smell of her only intensified his lust.

With a sigh, he threw back the covers, the cool air doing nothing to tame the heat of his nude body. As he sat on the side of the bed, head in his hands, he couldn’t think of much to help clear his mind. He grabbed his sketchbook and a piece of charcoal he kept by the bed - there was no point in keeping it locked away any more when Leonore had given him only her heartfelt approval for his drawings of her.

He had barely sketched out the basic shapes when he found himself too unfocused to remember all of her tiny details properly. He turned the book and opened it starting with the back cover, then flipped through the images of his lover. Some were innocent enough; there were some of her reading and others of her laying in the grass by the lake. Then, he started finding the more risque pieces.

There were several of nothing but her profile, hair a mess and mouth open in a silent moan. Others he’d drawn only moments after she fell asleep, exhaustion overtaking her as a result of their vigorous sex. His eyes lingered on those ones, the curves he’d captured perfectly, her hand in her hair or gripping her own breast. One in particular had her hand between her thighs, playing with her immaculately drawn womanhood. He’d taken  _a lot_ of time making sure that one was perfect.

The erotic images did nothing to cool the fire in his blood, though he really didn’t know what else he was to expect. He groaned and tossed the book and charcoal back onto the nightstand and laid back down, closing his eyes to picture his lover in his head.

_… she dragged her tongue across his thigh, leaving a wet trail up to his sac. When her lips gently teased the sensitive skin, a debauched moan forced its way from deep in his chest._

That same moan almost slipped past his lips again, the memory so vivid it was as though it just happened. He sank his teeth into his hand to stop himself from making any noise. With Leonore gone, Regis insisted on taking up residence in the guest room. It was a kind gesture, and it was another reason Dettlaff couldn’t ask for a better friend.

Luckily, the fear of humiliation kept him in control of his moans, but he still had to deal with the arousal. He ran his hand down from his chest to his groin and imagined Leonore’s in its place.

_Her hands pushed at his thighs, forcing them apart further and allowing her better access to the gift that laid before her._

Dettlaff remembered how wonderful her mouth felt on him, and though he couldn’t recreate the sensation, he still ran his hand across his testicles and teased the skin gingerly between his fingers. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough.

_Using the ejaculate leaking down his shaft, she slicked her finger and prodded ever so tenderly against his anus. Instinct made him tense up, but when she licked the rest of his precum from his throbbing member, he began to relax._

Using the memory as the blueprint, he mimicked her actions, his own finger prodding at his entrance. He was panting softly into his hand, the force with which he was biting drawing blood. Carefully, so as to avoid hurting himself with his claw, he pushed a digit inside himself, growling in pleasure against his makeshift gag.

_Every appeal for more was met in kind, either by her finger reaching deeper into him or her head bobbing on his cock faster. Watching her swallow him in such a manner was possibly the most erotic thing he had the pleasure of seeing.._

His erection was left abandoned, bobbing in the air when, reflexively, Dettlaff’s hips bucked at the pleasure he was bringing himself. He had to finally pull his hand from his mouth to grip himself, saliva, precum, and traces of blood acting as lubricant. With a hiss, he sucked air through his tightly clenched teeth, still fighting the need to moan like a bitch in heat.

_Her finger pressed and  prodded until she found the tight knot that was his prostate, then he spiraled out of control. His back arched, toes curled, and mouth opened in a silent cry, but no sound came out._

His finger explored himself in a manner that he’d never done before, but Leonore’s lust filled eyes in his mind encouraged him. He thrust his cock into his hand in earnest, the skin tinged pink from the blood that had seeped through the broken skin of his hand. All the while he did as his lover had done, trying to find the sweet spot inside himself that made him come undone.

He was beginning to grow frustrated; Leonore knew exactly what to do and how, but he was simply playing by ear. With a groan, he removed his finger and used his spit as additional lubricant before plunging back into himself, a second finger joining the first. The stretch wasn’t extreme, but it evoked another hiss and strangled whimper from him before his tight anus adjusted accordingly.

Were Leonore there, he could only imagine what she’d think. His legs were spread with both hands fondling and fucking himself.  _Oh_  how he wished she were the one to do it, but he settled for what he could get.

It took another few minutes to finally find the perfect rhythm for him, but once he’d found it, he started losing control. His grunts and moans weren’t loud, but he was trying so desperately to keep from making any noises at all. The resistance was thrown out the window when he finally found what he’d been looking for.

With a roar, he dug his fingers into his prostate, his cum spilling out across his chest and stomach. He thrust one, two, three more times until he was sure he was completely spent, then finally removed his hands from his body.

Dettlaff lay on his back in a breathless daze, not wanting to look down at the very apparent mess he’d made of his body; he came a lot, he knew that much without having to see anything. However, he knew the consequences of waiting to clean up, and so he searched about to find something with which to wipe himself down.

There was a knock at the door, making him jump. He was so effectively distracted that he hadn’t heard footsteps approaching from the other side. With a roll, he threw himself off of the bed to take cover beside it, out of view of the door in case anyone came in. He then had to take a few deep breaths to even out his breathing enough so as not to sound like he’d just run a marathon.

“What is it?” he called, expecting Regis to answer from the other side of the door. Instead, he heard it open first.

“Dettlaff, love? Are you in here? I just got home when I heard–”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence before, in a flash, Dettlaff was beside her and slamming the door behind her. He didn’t care that his torso was still covered in a layer of his seed, he crushed her between his body and the wall, stealing her lips in what was possibly the most passionate kiss he could muster.

Instead of fighting, she moaned into his mouth, her nonverbal compliance being the permission he needed to ravage her there against the wall. In the very very back of his mind, he felt bad for Regis and anyone in the vicinity that would hear them throughout the rest of the night.


	10. Socially Inept

Dettlaff was not adept at reading the social cues of humans, though he was doing his best to learn. Leonore was usually there to assist him, though that was mostly because any social interactions he usually had were with friends she’d made in town.

The majority were young women, two of which were married, Linette and Saria, though they left their husbands at home; the other, Nadie, being single and notoriously promiscuous. At least, notorious to those who spent a lot of time in town. Dettlaff, however, was not one of those.

Leonore had insisted that he join her for lunch with her friends, and though he was reluctant, the sight of her all made up for the outing, red lips set in a pout, made him cave. He was still incredibly wary when it came to humans, but with his lover there it helped to both keep him calm and boost his confidence. At least she was there to monitor him - he knew that he had a tendency to be incredibly blunt, and she often had to step in to ensure that no offense be taken when he made a social blunder.

It was for this reason that he preferred others to do the talking. He was very good at listening and responding to questions, but with conversation, he could get by so long as no one tried to read too deeply into what he said. Unfortunately for him, that was what these women were best at, so he did his best to limit how much he said and refrained from making his opinions on certain subjects known.

The day was cool, with the occasional breeze signifying that summer was coming to a close. Despite this, the ladies decided they would have one last outing before the weather no longer permitted it. They sat outside in the veranda of the local inn, enjoying drinks and conversation. Though most of what they talked about was the typical gossip and goings on about the city, Dettlaff still found himself listening intently.

His politeness made him a hit with Leonore’s friends, often making them stop to compliment him on his ability to retain information - a skill which their husbands sorely lacked. He wasn’t all too sure what to say in response, so settled on kindly thanking them. A glance to Leonore told him he was doing good, a loving smile on her face as she watched him converse with her new companions. It made him incredibly happy to know he was doing well.

The topic would often turn from the typical to being about him. They would ask him questions about who he was and where he’d been, but his answers were usually short and brief unless they asked for him to elaborate.

One such question turned to his ring, which Nadie happened to notice. Without warning, she took his hand, which had been resting on the table, and ran the tips of her fingers over the cool metal while at the same time tracing along his palm with her other hand. None of the women seemed to notice, but he felt it. Not wanting to seem rude, he let them ogle and told them the significance of the piece of jewelry, though not so much detail that it revealed his true origins to them. A comment on his sharp nails was brushed off with a shrug, explaining that it was ‘just a fad’.

They ate up everything he said, though he knew Leonore saw through it all what with her being his lover. Finally through explaining his ring, he gently removed his hand from the young woman’s, but gave her a small smile. She returned it with one of her own, but there was a glint of something in her eyes. He didn’t pick up on it, instead allowing them to bombard him with more questions before finally stopping them to ask a few of his own.

The attention on him wasn’t unwelcome, but he’d rather return to listening quietly. As they went on about their own lives, Dettlaff noticed Nadie continued to give him furtive glances. She wasn’t unattractive - in fact, she was quite radiant for someone of lower social standing.

While he was silently appraising her appearance, he felt someone’s foot brush against his calf. At first, he thought it was Leonore. She wasn’t one for public displays of affection, though she did like to sneak a touch or a kiss when there were no eyes on her. It was daring of her to brush against him when there were so many potential witnesses. He couldn’t help but smirk, though schooled his expression before any of the other ladies noticed.

Nadie noticed, letting her attention once again return to him. She asked him a few more questions, these ones far more personal. He still answered politely, though he could feel Leonore’s eyes boring into him. Feeling like he was starting to dig himself into a hole, he finally managed to turn the conversation back to Nadie, who was more than happy to share intimate details that, well, he never asked for.

Overall, he was kind and did his best to be proper despite the conversation veering toward being inappropriate. He didn’t really see it as such, and so continued obliviously. It wasn’t until he made one specific comment that he realized he must have said something wrong.

“You’ve a talent in that respect it seems. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

He felt it was implied that he meant any man that  _wasn’t_  him. Shortly after, however, he noticed a change in Leonore’s demeanor. She didn’t seem as invested in the conversation any more, and eventually excused herself. Her claim was that she was tired and it had been getting late, though they hadn’t been there for more than an hour. Dettlaff stood to join her, but she went ahead without bothering to see whether he was following.

He was stopped by a hand to his shoulder, Nadie standing behind him. She gave him a smile and tried to ask him a few more personal questions, but he was distraught. Leonore was walking away, but he didn’t want to be rude. He took Nadie’s hand gently and gave her a polite bow, then excused himself to go after his lover, Linette’s and Saria’s eyes boring into him as he retreated.

—

When he finally caught up to Leonore, he could very clearly see she was upset. Her arms were crossed and she refused to meet his eyes. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was that his lover was very easy to read. However, now he had to find out what he had done wrong.

“Liefje?”

“What do you want, Dettlaff,” she sighed, not really caring it seemed. It worried him, further cementing the fact in his mind that he had indeed done something to upset her. As soon as they reached the door to their home, he gently stopped her and coaxed her into looking at him.

“You are upset.”

“What of it?” Her grumbling only served to upset him further.

“Was it something I said? You know that you can tell me if I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“A  _fool?_ ” she asked, finally ready to take out her frustrations on him. It always happened this way, but he’d rather her be angry with him than have her try to ignore him. “Oh no, Dettlaff. You aren’t a fool. You’re an outright  **ASS**.”

She tried to storm off on him, but he stopped her again by blocking her path. The response was a slap. His cheek stung, and before he could ask what she’d struck him for, she had finally made it to the bedroom only to slam the door shut.

Several different emotions fought for control in him. Despair and confusion were at the forefront, but anger started to creep in as well. When frustration had set in, he knew he couldn’t just let her stew. He had to know what was going on, and he wouldn’t find out unless he asked.

He didn’t bother to knock until he realized she had locked the door behind her. When she heard the rattle of the doorknob, she yelled at him to leave her be. With a growl, he let himself fade into a mist, bypassing the door and materializing at the foot of their bed.

The sight of Leonore curled up with tears in her eyes made his heart hurt. He had no idea that she felt like this, so he sat just beside her feet and sighed.

“I know this has something to do with me, but I need you to tell me what. You know I am not as adept as you when it comes to social situations, liefje.” She sniffled and wiped at her tears before she answered him.

“How could you do that to me? I don’t care how inept you are when it comes to conversation, she was so  _obviously_  flirting with you and you just played along!”

Oh.

Oh  _no_.

“What??” There was no room for anything but confusion in his voice. “I have no clue what you are talking about!”

“Nadie, you dope! She was all over you to the point she was undressing you with her eyes and you returned her advances! Are you seriously that daft?!” As much as he wanted to be angry at her insults, he knew it was only going to make matters worse. Instead, he took a deep breath before responding.

“I apologize, but I was not aware of any of that. Had I known, I would have tried to divert the topic.” And here he thought he’d been doing well. He hadn’t really paid Nadie any mind; sure, she made her interest in him known when she stroked his palm, but aside from that–

It was then that it occurred to him that Leonore was not, in fact, the one stroking his leg under the table. Now he felt awful. Nadie  _was_  all over him, and he’d done nothing to dissuade her. He inwardly berated himself, not entirely paying attention when Leonore spoke again.

“Well, it was very clear to me, Saria, and Linette that she was trying to get in your pants, and you all but gave her instructions on how to do it. That was humiliating!  _Are you even listening to me_?!” When he snapped back out of his thoughts, she was giving him a look that could kill. He almost cringed, but tried to save himself.

“I had no intention to hurt you, Leonore. Please, if there is anything you would have me do to prove it, all you need do is say so.” It appeared to be successful, because he saw the anger start to dissipate as she contemplated what he said.

“So.. You’d have me punish you?” There was a certain look in her eye that reminded him of the one Nadie had had when she’d taken his hand. It gave him pause, but hey, if this was what it took to get her to forgive him, then so be it.

“If that is what you want, I will accept any punishment you see fit.” She finally sat up beside him, and before he had the chance to reach out to her, she fixed him with a glare.

“Stand up.” He obeyed, albeit a bit hesitantly. When she followed suit, her hands started to undo the buckles that held his overcoat closed. She kept her eyes on the task at hand, but the look she’d shot him earlier told him he should probably not move. He may not be very good at social cues, but he knew when he tread on thin ice with his lover.

Once undone, she had him shrug out of the coat then got to work undoing his shirt. He heard her grumble in frustration, but when he brought up his hands to help, she smacked them away. Thus, he stayed still. It wasn’t until she’d finally discarded the offending article of clothing that she finally bade him do something other than stand there silently.

“Lay down.”

“Le–” She effectively shut him up with a glower.

Obediently, he sat on the edge of the bed, then laid back as she commanded. Without a word, she left the room, and he contemplated going after her. All he wanted was to make up for his mistakes, but he also didn’t want to irritate her any more than he already had. This was the first time he’d seen her so livid; it left him with an almost sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. That would be the last time he went with her to meet her friends at the very least. Once again he was reminded of why he held such a strong distaste for humans - at least, humans that weren’t his lover.

When she returned, she held a length of rope in her hands. He eyed her curiously and opened his mouth to ask what she was planning on doing with it, but he thought better and closed it again. She urged him to lift his arms above his heads, then proceeded to fasten his wrists to the wooden headboard. With one final tug, she stood back to assess her work. He was sure she knew he could easily break the bonds with minimal effort, but that must have been the point.

Dettlaff tugged on the restraints himself, but she’d done a decent job. The knots were tight, almost too tight, but he’d be lying if he denied the wave of excitement that rushed through him. While his attention was on his bonds, he missed the opportunity to watch Leonore undress as well. When he finally brought his attention back to her, he unconsciously tried to reach for her. Her body was bare, her brunette hair a stark contrast against her pale skin.

“Leonore,” his voice was thick with want, “what is going on?”

She said nothing, but sauntered up to the bed. Her hand started at his knee and ran up along his body to rest at his chest. He could find no indication of what she was going to do next, but was pleased when she climbed onto the bed to straddle his waist.

“I’ll admit, love, you went and pissed me off,” she began, lazily running her finger down his neck. A shudder ran through him, and he again tried reaching for her only to be trapped. “But I know it wasn’t entirely you to blame. See, you’re a handsome man. I’m lucky to have gotten someone so pleasing to the eyes.”

What was she getting at? He wanted to trust her, but he couldn’t help but be suspicious. While her words stroked his ego and her hand stroked his neck, he kept silent and waited for her to finally get to the point.

“Well, it also poses a problem. See, how am I supposed to keep the likes of Nadie from trying to sink their teeth into you?” She waited to see what his response was, but he had no idea how to answer her. When he remained quiet, she leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips. He tried to lean into it, but she pulled away before he could try to deepen it. Then her mouth traced along his jaw, the rouge on her lips leaving a faint red trail to his neck.

When her teeth sank into the muscle of his neck, his instinctual response was to growl, but the sensation left him physically weak to the lust that flooded every inch of his being. The wood of the headboard creaked when he pulled against the restraints, but when one of her hands caressed his cheek, he stopped and resorted to moaning. She was still latched onto him, sucking a bruise into his neck. When she finally pulled away, she was rewarded with an angry red mark on his neck. He watched her bite her lip, a satisfied smirk on her face that quickly faded along with the bruise.

“Hmm. I forget sometimes that you heal from everything so quickly.”

“You are trying to  _mark me?!_ ” As if he needed another reason to be aroused. She didn’t bother to answer him, instead digging her teeth into him again. This time he groaned, his back arching off of the bed. By this point his trousers felt uncomfortably tight, but he could do nothing about it. No, now that he knew what she planned on doing to him, he’d play the part of her prey.

Every mark she left on him disappeared, but with every one she made, she moved further down his body. Her hands remained on either side of him, not giving him the contact he desperately wanted from her. The lack of contact was what drove him ever wilder, and just as she reached the hem of his trousers, his hips involuntarily bucked against her.

She sat up, earning a pitiful whine from him.

“ _Why did you stop?!_ ”

“You want more?” she asked with a smirk. He nodded emphatically. “Then all you have to do is behave.”

Behave? So she wanted him to lay still and not respond to her affections, rough as they are? It would be incredibly difficult, and he was unsure if he could comply. He would do his best at the very least.

Satisfied that he would follow her commands, she  _finally_ undid his trousers, but not before biting into his hip. It stung worse than the other bites and he had to sink his teeth his own tongue to keep from recoiling. The sensation of her playing with the skin with her teeth and tongue was a wonderful one; he never imagined the pain would blend so well with the pleasure.

His erection freed from his trousers, she finally decided to give it some attention. She didn’t bite, nor would she, but she did drag her teeth along the underside of his shaft. He practically choked on his tongue, but through every last drop of resolve, he managed to stay absolutely still. She watched him as he panted in need, his own eyes shut tightly as he concentrated on not moving. His skin was speckled with the remnants of her love bites - there were still bits of lipstick where there were once bruises, and the sight stirred something sadistic in her.

This was the first time she’d thought to torture him like this. They didn’t often stray from the typical 'one on top of the other’ vanilla sex. When they did make a change, it was usually for the better. He would never forget this night and how she had him bound to the bed and claimed him like this. Inwardly, he very much wished the remainders of her possession hadn’t faded so quickly. When he finally looked down, the last of them had healed, but lipstick stained his skin.

Leonore drew his eyes away from the marks on his body by kissing her way back up, her tongue flicking out to tickle the tender skin that had been bruised. He couldn’t stop himself from squirming, and her eyes flashed dangerously at him.

“I am sorry I–”

“Don’t know how to behave. Should I leave you here to think about it? I can always go find a book to read.”

“ _NO._ ” His snarl surprised even him, but she didn’t seem phased. In fact, she looked incredibly pleased.

“Then  **don’t** ,” she paused to creep back down his body and take his erection in hand, “ _move_.”

Her mouth was making his head spin; she teased him with her lips and the tip of her tongue, but she refused to give him what he wanted. It was driving him mad. Her dominance over him filled him with an indescribable pleasure.

“ _Please.._ ”

“Please what?” she asked, then resumed her teasing of his shaft. Her tongue just barely touched him as it trailed down to the base, then back up to the head. He groaned, head tossing so his hips didn’t move. Then, she sank her teeth into the meat of his thigh.

“ _ **FUCK. ME.** ” _His voice was no more than a pained snarl, and his lover gave him a wicked grin. He was  _never_  so vulgar, but it seemed she could bring out both the best and the worst out of him. She climbed back up his body and smashed their mouths together in a hard mess of a kiss and pressed her hips against his, grinding against him.

There was a loud  _ **crack**_ , but before Leonore could react, he had a hand in her hair and was trapping her lips against his. She didn’t resist, instead kissing him back with an intensity that only barely matched his own. He was trembling with the restraint he was still trying to hold onto, and reluctantly he pulled away, but only far enough so he could speak.

“If you want to salvage what is left of this bed, you will release me, **now.** ” Sensing the gravity of the situation, she reached over to fumble with the knot still securing his other hand, but his patience was thin enough as it was. Frustrated with how long she was taking, he used his claws to slash at the rope, effectively releasing him, but leaving a deep gouge in the wood. His second hand freed, he immediately grabbed Leonore by the arm and threw her back onto the bed before pouncing on her.

He was in her with a single quick thrust, a cry tearing from both their throats. Her hands were pinned to the bed, giving her just a small taste of what he had to endure. His hips snapped into hers with a desperation he hadn’t felt before. It was like he was drowning, and the only way he could breathe was to take her with everything he had in him.

They didn’t last long, her teasing having very effectively brought him close to the brink while his punishing pace pushed her over the edge quickly. Her moans escalated into near screams when he dug his teeth into her neck, just high enough to be seen over any collar she might try to use to cover it. He didn’t draw blood, but he agitated the skin enough to leave her with a large, deep-red mark - she tried so very hard to leave him with a physical reminder of her ownership of him, he thought he may as well return the favor.

By the end, they both lay panting on the bed. Dettlaff made to move off of her, but Leonore refused to let him go. He laid his head on her chest, and that was how they remained for the better part of half an hour. It was peaceful, the sound of their breathing lulling both of them into a sense of security. The vampire still had one of his hands bound, the piece of headboard that he’d been tied to secured to his wrist. It made Leonore laugh, but she removed it for him nonetheless.

Both coming down from their sexual high, he now sat up and lightly traced his thumb along the bruise marring the fair skin of her neck. It wasn’t entirely intentional - he’d gotten lost in the moment and gave in to the lust. Now, he felt remorse.

“I am incredibly sorry,” he sighed, but she smiled up at him.

“You’re fine. Besides, when Nadie realizes you’re the one that give me this beauty, she’ll back off of you. She’s the kind to let people claim her.”

“So be it, but I never expressed any desire in her in the first place.”

“I know, love. You’re just clueless.” He rolled his eyes at her and laid his head back down on her chest, listening to her teasing giggles and her heartbeat with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named a few characters in this one solely for the sake of keeping things from getting too confusing. They're really just place holders to avoid an overuse of pronouns.


	11. Satisfy Me

Soft moans greeted Dettlaff upon his return home, the day spent out amongst his pack. It wasn’t a sound that he usually heard upon arrival, and as such sparked an innate curiosity in him. Normally, he would come back to his loving woman, a soft kiss, then go about the day as he usually did. However, his mate was not there, but she made noises from the other room.

Initially, he was prone to think the worst - that she could be moaning in pain was what first crossed his mind, and as such he began to immediately worry as he made his way to the bedroom. The sight of his bare lover in bed, her own hands touching breasts and thighs while whimpers and gasps fell past her lips made him silently gape. It was much like happening upon a lost work of art, but in this case the artwork painted itself, unknowingly being watched by he who would normally be the artist.

Though sounds of pleasure were being evoked by soft, pale hands, her face was contorted into one of frustration, her fingers unable to do what she needed them to do. As much as he wanted to sweep her hands away and replace them with his own, Dettlaff was rooted to the spot, helplessly watching with dry mouth and bated breath.

The arching of her back made his gut twist pleasantly, wanting so badly to be the one to evoke such a reaction from her. It had been so long since last they touched each other, but they both had lives that kept them apart - he had his role as leader of a pack of unruly vampires while she had her own daily tasks that most often kept her away from home for hours on end.

How long had she been like this, the frustration so clearly etched on her face with her plump lower lip held between her teeth and eyes shut tight as she sought a pleasure that eluded her fingertips? Maddening as it was to watch, he played the voyeur and let his eyes wander her body. With a cry of what sounded like anger, his beloved seemed to give up, slumping back down onto the bed while her hands left her body. She curled in on herself, her back to the door. Now that the show was over, Dettlaff could feel his body willing to move again - shame began creeping up in him at the thought that he’d just been spying on his own mate in her attempts to please herself.

Silently, he pushed open the door, but the telltale creak of the hinges alerted the woman in bed to his presence. She turned back over to him, her eyes wide as though she hadn’t expected to be caught like this. He always came home at this time; had she really been preoccupied like this for so long that she knew not what time it was? Rather than ask questions, she sat up and reached out to him, the gesture drawing him to her with an eagerness he’d needed to feel for what almost felt like weeks now.

Clothes were discarded, yet though she was all but begging for him to ravage her, he forced himself to take his time. Her needs were unmet, something he wanted to remedy in every way as many times as he could before giving in to his own desires. His mouth was everywhere, kissing trails from her lips across the fair expanse of her short frame, even going so far as to place his lips lightly to the tips of her toes - every inch of her needed his attention, for he could not let her feel neglected any longer.

Short breaths and harried sighs graced his ears like a symphony of bliss, a song he wouldn’t soon forget and that he would replay in his mind for ages to come. The blushing peaks of her breasts he was most attentive to, for his gentle suckling always brought about the neediest and most beautiful of moans from his beloved. Her hands were doing everything they could to press and praise him, but he kept them at bay with his own. This was about her pleasure, not his.

When his lips enclosed the sensitive bud just above her womanhood, her back arched for him like it had under the ministrations of her own fingers earlier. Dettlaff relished in the reaction, taking pride in the fact that  _he_ was the one to evoke it from her. His tongue was unrelenting, laving her heat so thoroughly that it only served to make her hotter. It took only a few more tender caresses before she came undone at his hands, her cries filling the room as her body tightened and shuddered beneath him.

She rode out her high, though he only let her do so for a brief moment before he was pressing his mouth to hers, the essence he’d so hungrily lapped from her core tainting their kiss with the taste of her. There was a passion in their kiss that they had both missed dearly, too caught up in their busy lives to have been able to properly tend to the other’s needs.

No words needed to be shared between them - he knew she was ready and wanting for more of him, and he was willing to give her all he had to offer her. From his heart to his mind to his body, she would receive all of him so readily that it made his entire being ache. To be accepted like this, buried in her love and her warmth, had his very soul crowing to the heavens.

The writhing of their bodies, coated in a sheen of sweat, was all there was to them in that moment. Her hands were everywhere at once while his lips and teeth teased her delicate skin and he plunged himself inside her. Slowly, yet firmly, he took her like she’d so desperately been wanting. The pleasure that she had sought but moments before now overcame her in a wave of feelings. She felt everything in his kiss - his love, his passion, his basest desires and his every emotion. There was no way in any world that she could want for more, so complete did she feel in his arms.

Hips pressed together, nails raked at skin, and eyes locked. Their breathing was ragged, pants and moans and sighs the only sounds in the room and the entire universe. When he came apart, she fell with him, both tipping over the edge of glory to collide with the ground in ecstasy. Not once did he tear his gaze from hers, not even when a tear welled up in her eye to drip down onto the pillow behind her head. He kissed away further tears and tenderly brushed the hair from her face that clung to her forehead.

Still they remained quiet, not needing to say anything to know how the other felt. Their love was palpable, so much so that just the look in their eyes said all that needed to be said. The rest of the night was spent like this, taking solace in their embrace and loving like the chance would be lost forever should they not do so now.


	12. Restless

A gasp and a scream pierced the night, shortly followed by a panicked sob. Dettlaff shot upright in bed, but it wasn’t he who screamed. His lover was also sitting up, tears streaming down her face, body shaking, and heart racing so fast that it sounded as though it would burst. Instinctively, his arms went around Leonore and pulled her to him, her tears now dripping down his chest as she buried her face in him.

This wasn’t the first time she woke like this to nightmares. They were nowhere near as severe as Rhena’s had been when she was alive, but it hurt more to see Leonore like this. Where Rhena had been strong, this little woman was weak. She clung to him tightly, something his former lover never did when she woke from the terrors of her own mind.

Softly, he shushed her, rocking gently like he’d done several times before. It was heartbreaking to see his mate like this, but he did all he could to provide her comfort.

“ _Shh, je bent oké, mijn liefje. Je bent oké._ ” The sound of Dettlaff’s low voice helped bring her some relief, as did his hand running circles across her bare back.

Still, she continued to weep, though her cries were not nearly as harsh. She did not understand Nazairi, so her vampire lover’s words were lost on her. Regardless, she knew he only sought to soothe her. It was working, but the memory of pain and fear would linger for the rest of the night.

“I’m.. I’m scared,” she admitted, feeling like such a child for doing so. What grown adult woke crying in the middle of the night because of bad dreams? Despite how pathetic she felt, Dettlaff refused to release her, his strong arms providing security while his gentle voice whispered sweet Nazairi nothings.

This was how they sat for a while until Leonore’s body stopped shaking and her breathing finally evened out. Now her tears were silent until they stopped completely, though not before soaking the hair across her lover’s chest. She sat upright again and apologized, but he would have none of it. He kissed away her tears and pressed his forehead to hers.

“ _Never_ apologize, liefje. I am here for you. For as long as I draw breath, I will do all I can to keep you safe.”

To his dismay, his words only made her cry again, but when she hugged him tightly, he knew it was for an altogether different reason. He continued to slowly rock with her, trying to silence her tears with the soothing motion. After a few moments, she was asleep again, her cheek pressed to his shoulder and her slowed breathing in his ear.

He didn’t have the heart to move for fear of waking her. With as little movement as he could get away with, he leaned back against the wooden headboard of their bed and held her close. It was difficult sleeping in such a position, and he would no doubt wake with a soreness in his back and neck, but he still let his eyes drift shut. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to make his woman happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HC Nazairi to be basically Dutch, but I have to use a translator for it since it's not my native language. If I make a mistake, please let me know and I'll correct it to the best of my ability.
> 
> Je bent oké = You're okay


	13. Illness

“It appears you’ve caught a flu. A nasty strain, I’ll admit, but there’s not much you can do aside from rest and try to drink as much water as you can keep down. You should be feeling better after a day or so, but until then, I recommend you stay in bed.”

There was nothing reassuring about Regis’ diagnosis, but at least now Leonore knew why she felt like she wanted to die. It hurt to function in any small way and she couldn’t seem to stop throwing up no matter how little was left in her stomach. There wasn’t even any bile left in her, but still she convulsed and gagged into the bucket she cradled in her lap.

Dettlaff was reminded of yet another reason he held a distaste for mortals. They were so weak, falling to something so mild as a common flu. The thought left him with a terror in his heart that Leonore could succumb to her illness, her cold and lifeless body being the only image in his mind no matter how forcefully he tried to expel it. Now that it was revealed what made her so ill, Dettlaff resolved to do everything in his power to see to her care, no matter how disgusting it may get.

A few times he’d attempted to get her to drink something, but every time resulted in her stomach rejecting even so much as a drop of water. When that failed, he’d resorted to simply trying to comfort her. The sounds she made when she gagged and heaved made his own stomach churn, but he held strong to his resolve and stayed beside her, helping her through this trying time.

It was hours of fruitless efforts on his part to make her feel better. He tried to soothe her by rubbing her back and running his hands through her hair, but nothing worked to ease the shivers that wracked her body. Were she not so sensitive to any amount of movement, she would try to voice her concerns and make him aware of what she wanted, but for now she stayed as still as she could, curled up in a ball of misery and pain while he watched helplessly.

When he sought Regis for help, the barber-surgeon informed him that there wasn’t much to be done. Any medicine administered would be thrown up and rendered useless, so all they could do was wait for it to pass. Waiting wasn’t something Dettlaff was too keen on doing though. If she needed rest and fluids, he would do what he could to see she received it.

The fluids proved to be the most trying thing to give her, so he abandoned that for the time being to try to calm her enough to allow her to rest. The pain and tremors were preventing her from relaxing, though he knew she must be exhausted from the effort it took to keep from dry-heaving every few minutes. But what could he do to help? There were many things she enjoyed doing to relax, though that was when she  _wasn’t_  ill. Walking was something she did often, but when he asked if she may be capable of it, she responded with a half-groan, half-sob. With that out of the question, he took to listing off all of the other things she liked.

Since walking wasn’t something she would be capable of, he knew most anything involving movement was also stricken from the list. He asked if she might enjoy sitting outside to feel the breeze, but her shivers told him that perhaps she was too cold. The chills were concerning, especially since she was already buried under every blanket and fur he could find. He’d even draped his coat across the top of the heap of covers, but none of it seemed to have an impact. Suddenly, a new idea occurred to him. Despite her protests, he stood to leave the room, reassuring her with his words that he would be back shortly.

After what felt like an eternity, for he was very low on patience, he’d managed to prepare a bath. The steam that erupted from the water left him feeling a bit apprehensive about whether it might be too hot, but he’d rather her tell him herself than try to wait any longer. His return was met with a soft whimper from the sick woman taking shelter in the covers, but he couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him or if she was simply vocalizing her misery as she had been for the past twelve hours. Regardless, he gently removed her from her burrow - he had to pause and let her stomach settle before lifting her into his arms - then took her to the bath. She was already undressed in an attempt to prevent her from soiling her clothing with her own vomit, so he at least didn’t have to make her suffer through the process of removing her clothes.

Slowly, he eased her tender body into the water, waiting for her to protest. Instead, he was met with a pleased moan. For a moment, he felt triumphant; he finally found something that could help relieve her tension. The moment was shattered when she turned to gag, her upper half hanging over the edge of the tub so as not to accidentally ruin the clean water. However, she had nothing left in her to lose, so eventually her violent heaving gave way to more soft whimpers and silent tears.

Her misery broke his heart. All he wanted was for her to feel better. Resolved to continue in his efforts, though he felt rather useless, he decided to stay put and do what he could to ease her aches. He pressed his thumbs gently into the tense muscles of her back and shoulders, earning a few pleased hums in response until she felt well enough to sink back into the water. Relieved, he contented himself with sitting beside the tub - at least, he did until she slumped so far that her head disappeared under the water.

No longer trusting what little strength she had to keep her from drowning herself (and understandably panicked after having to pull her back up from what could’ve been her watery grave), he undressed and slipped into the water beside her then pulled her into his lap. Again, the movements upset her stomach, but after a few more moments of pointless gagging, she let her body mold against his. How she could stand the heat of both his body and the nearly boiling water, he had no clue. Even he could barely withstand it, but he stayed there for her.

The water was so hot that it took seemingly forever before it started to cool, but it must have been soothing enough, for it wasn’t long before Leonore’s eyes drifted shut. Her sleep was restless what with her entire body being in pain, but it was better than what she was getting buried under the pile of cloth and fur. It was well over an hour before the heat died down enough to bring back the woman’s shivers, but when Dettlaff wrapped his arms about her, they receded enough to allow for her to continue resting.

Once the water had finally gone cold, he gently lifted her spent body from the tub and carried her back into her room. She was so exhausted that no form of movement woke her, so he was able to return her to her bed without fear of her having to throw up again. Still, the covers did not provide the warmth she sought, so he climbed into the bed beside her. With her body nestled against his, she sighed in her sleep and drifted away, her slumber thankfully dreamless. Now that she was finally resting fully, Dettlaff found he too was fatigued, especially after so many hours spent fretting over the ill woman that he cared for so dearly. Satisfied for now, he let himself relax enough to sleep beside her, though he was still fully aware of every small movement on her part.

Hours passed, and though Dettlaff found himself feeling rested, he did not move from his spot beside Leonore. Her face was buried in his chest while her whole body clung to him in its desperate search for warmth. As such, he kept his arms firmly in place around her, their legs tangled together and torsos flush against each other. This was how they remained for as long as she needed, almost another half of a day passing before her eyes fluttered open.

His heart soared when she sleepily smiled up at him, the expression enough to tell him that she was, in fact, feeling better than she had before their bath. From that day on, he would take great care in ensuring she didn’t fall sick again, though now he knew what to do should it inevitably happen.


	14. Affection

Every few weeks, Dettlaff had to enlist the help of Regis to tame his lengthening curls. They were a nuisance if he didn’t get them trimmed, and his friend was more than happy to help. An added bonus was Leonore’s reaction to his monthly haircuts. As soon as he came home smelling of the fresh pomade that kept his hair from his face, she was at his side and coaxing him to sit in the lounge.

It always happened this way and always resulted in the same thing. Leonore would straddle his waist and dig her hands into his hair, the sleek black strands slipping between her fingers while she played to her heart’s content. It was pleasant - so much so that at times he would forget himself and just sit there and purr, his usual human countenance giving way to his natural bestial form. It never seemed to bother the small woman in his lap, especially not when he’d nuzzle her affectionately in return.

They could spend well over an hour like this if they wanted to and often would, only stopping when the vampire began dozing off. The chair wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep in, so when he desired to nap with her, he’d simply pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. At times she’d find a way to turn it into a sexual game, and while enjoyable, he much preferred when she’d let him curl up around her and hold her close. It was moments like these that he cherished with her most.


	15. Hunger

Dettlaff wasn’t the most experienced in sexual encounters. In regards to conventional lovers, he’d had two - Syanna and Leonore. Otherwise, his experience came from slaking his lusts with the various feminine vampires of his pack. They mated like animals, and as such, weren’t really a decent frame of reference when it came to pleasing his human lover. Syanna had taught him much in the ways of selflessly pleasing women, but she was also very demanding of him in bed, giving him little in regards to his own pleasure unless it was to enhance her own. She could even be sadistic, tying him up and using him to fulfill her own desires to command and dominate. It was simply how his love life went - either he was used or he took with little regard for himself.

Something at which he had become quite talented was using his tongue to bring his Leonore to completion. Sometimes it was unexpected; she would lie in bed with a book in hand when suddenly he was beneath the covers with his head between her legs. Never was it unwanted though, made apparent when her reading was abandoned and her hand was in his hair. The moans he elicited with solely his mouth were the greatest reward he could ask for.

He was so used to giving without expecting anything in return. His release was always achieved through the simple act of the sex itself, so he never saw a need to request foreplay for himself. Even when Leonore tried to kiss and tease his body, it always resulted in him assuming control and pleasuring her before himself.

—

“ _Mmm.. Don’t stop,_ ” she moaned beneath him as his lips moved over the skin of her neck, sucking and nipping in deep appreciation. Her pulse beneath his mouth always brought out a hunger in him, though it was one he would only satisfy with the sweet nectar of her womanhood. Silently, he obeyed her wishes, pulling her delicate skin with his teeth, but tenderly so. Her hands were in his hair as they usually were, and he loved the sensation every time.

As his lips trailed kisses down his lover’s naked body, her hands followed. However, before he could delve into the delicacy between her thighs, she gave his hair a sharp tug. It effectively got his attention, making him pause and look up with a cocked brow.

“Is something the matter, liefje?”

“No, but I wanted to try something different if you don’t mind?”

When he nodded, she bade him sit back up then help her to do the same. As soon as he did though, she pushed him onto his back. For a moment he was confused, especially when she threw her leg over his chest, her rear presented to him. A growl left him simply at the smell of her arousal. She backed up until her mound was close enough for him latch on with his lips, something he did eagerly the soonest he had the chance. His hands went up to rest on her plush backside and push her further onto his face. It allowed his tongue to dive deeper into her, evoking sweet mewls and whimpers from the woman above him.

As he feasted on her, he wasn’t prepared to feel her hand between his own thighs wrapping around his hardened shaft. It was without warning and made him moan suddenly into her. He stopped only to try to see what she had planned, but he needn’t see anything to know the feel of her tongue being dragged up his member. The sensation wasn’t  _entirely_ new; he’s had his lover’s mouth on him like this before, though only briefly before taking control of the foreplay. Now though, now he had to try to focus on anything that  _wasn’t_ her mouth if he was to continue to devour her like he’d intended. His cock in her mouth effectively gagged her moans, but the vibrations along with the hollowing out of her cheeks and the sounds of her sucking him down had him trying to resist his need to thrust upward into her mouth.

She was relentless in her attention on him. The mental image of his erection disappearing down her throat had him panting and growling into her snatch, even with his tongue buried in her as far as it would reach. One of his hands went under her to finger the sensitive bundle of nerves situated just above her soft lips, but she returned his gesture with a hand to his testicles, gently kneading and massaging as she swallowed him. He couldn’t resist his urges much longer now, his hips jumping to thrust his cock into her mouth needily. The sound of her gagging around him made him stop, removing his face from between her soft thighs to speak - ask if she was okay.

He never got the chance.

Leonore was having _none_  of it, pressing her hips back down to silence him effectively. Another growl was the response, but she did not cease in her ministrations. If anything, it spurred her on. As such, he returned to his earlier attentions, eating her out with renewed vigor. Again she moaned around him, but now she pulled on his hip with one of her hands, trying to coax him back into thrusting up into her mouth. This time he complied, but only because he was so lost to his lusts that he had barely any restraint left to deny either of them. Though muffled by his erection, her cries were loud and long, signifying he was very close to bringing about her climax. She was doing the same for him, but he would be damned if he didn’t push her over the peak first.

It didn’t take much more on his part - only a firm press to her clit brought her to completion. Again her hips pressed down as a spasm wracked her body, her fluids coating his tongue and lips while she rode out her orgasm. Despite this, she continued to engulf him, sucking firmly as she let him fuck her mouth. He still moaned into her thighs until finally he let out a long and low cry and filled her mouth with his hot seed. She gagged again, but it didn’t stop him from flooding her tongue with the taste of his cum. He now kissed at her thighs, lavishing them with loving affection while she licked his essence from her lips. Some had dripped out onto either his thighs or the sheets, but he was unbothered by it, so wonderfully spent he was thanks to her own skilled mouth.

Eventually she regained enough strength back in her legs to remove herself from him, but just when he thought that perhaps now was the time for her aftercare, she was shifting until her head was once again between his legs. Now he could watch as she lapped away the last bits of cum from his thighs, only strengthening the lust he still felt and arousal he still had. The woman was insatiable, and she made it very apparent now more than ever.

“Don’t think you’re going anywhere, love. I’m still  _hungry._ ”


	16. Meesteres

The more intimate Dettlaff was with his lover, the more he allowed her to nudge him outside of his comfort zone. Even if they did something he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, he would do most everything once. They didn’t experiment often, but he knew when Leonore planned something - she almost always urged him to bed with a giddiness like a child excited to play with a new toy. Thus far, there were a handful of things they both liked and disliked, but they almost always returned to regular sex with his body covering hers in some way. Oh if he only knew what she was up to this time.

When his lover returned home from a busy day with a small box under her arm and a barely-restrained grin on her face, he knew something was up. She was practically gnawing on her lower lip with how excited she was, so it came as no surprise when she grabbed his hand and all but dragged him to the bedroom - he’d be a goddamned liar if he said her excitement didn’t rub off on him a bit.

As soon as the door was closed, he was already shedding his clothes; it was almost an automatic reflex now when Leonore was involved. However, she didn’t try smothering him in kisses yet, so that meant she had a surprise. He was right in his assumption when she sat with the box in her lap, her clothing already discarded across the room.

“ _Lo~ve?_ ” she asked in a sing-song voice. “Remember that night when I used my fingers on you?”

How could he forget? He knew  _exactly_ which night she spoke of even with such little description. It was on his mind almost every time he felt his need building and did not have his lover there to satisfy him.

“I do.  _Intimately._ " 

"Well, I wanted to take it a step  _further._ Now, I don’t expect you to be on board with this, but I thought I might make it worth your while.” As soon as he shot her a wary look, she defensively held up her hands. “If you let me do this, I’ll find a way to convince my employer to let me spend an entire week home from work.”

Suddenly he was on board with whatever she had planned before even hearing what she had to say. Leonore delivered goods all across Brugge, so she worked every damned day. He probably would’ve jumped at the chance if she’d taken only one day off, but to tempt him with an entire  _week_? Whatever she had in mind, it must’ve been nefarious indeed.

“I accept.”

“I haven’t even told you what I had planned.”

“I am willing to make any sacrifice if it means having you all to myself for such a length of time.” He’d let the whole world burn if it meant she’d devote every last second of her life to him.

“I will hold you to that.” Were she not trying so hard to get laid, she would be deeply flattered. That being said, she wouldn’t let his sweet, heartfelt words spoil the fact that she was inexplicably aroused.

With his acceptance of whatever fate she had in store for him, she finally removed the lid from the box to reveal its contents. For a moment, Dettlaff’s eyes went wide with disbelief. Inside lay a neatly arranged bundle of straps, and on top..

“You cannot be serious.”

“Oh very." 

She watched him eye the smoothly polished wooden phallus as she removed it and let it dangle from the leather strips on which it was fastened. It didn’t have quite the  _girth_ his own member had, but he inadvertently clenched regardless. Now he wished he’d waited to hear what she’d planned before agreeing so hastily, but when he thought about the entire week he could spend dealing out a delicious punishment in return for it, he decided that perhaps it was worth it to try.

"You wish to wear this?”

“Mhm.”

“And use it on  _me_?”

“I mean, if you don’t want to, I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable. But like I said: I’d be willing to make it worth your while.”

Damn it all, he thought, but he’d already said he’d do it. He would  **never** admit to her that the excitement she’d rubbed off on him earlier was still there despite his apprehension. As manipulative as it was, he inwardly hoped she made deals with him like this more often.

“I already agreed. Now what would you have me do..?”

“ _Well_ , I’d have you get on your knees.”

“You will have to try harder than that.” Hey, if he was going to accept his fate, he may as well make her work for it. After all, he was already hard after all of the build-up, so half of the work was already done.

The challenge in his voice made her suddenly glare up at him, and he wondered if maybe he’d actually upset her. That is, until she set her new toy aside, stood, and pulled him down to her height by his shoulders. He could’ve easily overpowered her, but when her lips smashed against his in a domineering kiss, the fight all but leapt out of him. There wasn’t enough time for him to register what was happening before she took advantage of his sudden disorientation by knocking his feet out from under him. Before he knew it, he was on the ground.

_On his knees._

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she sneered, her words going through him with a new wave of arousal. She’d attempted to dominate him before with ill effect (rather, he’d attempted to show her how to defend herself should the need arise and she tripped over her own feet), but he was almost pleased to see she was capable of throwing him off-balance like that. This change in both her demeanor and merely the way she held herself over him left his mind reeling with lust.

Without warning, her hand laid across his rear with a sharp  _smack_ , making him jump. He almost felt defenseless before her, but he knew that this wasn’t real. This was a game that he would let her play for now. 

“Now, will you obey?" 

Ah, but it was getting harder to pretend this was a game when she was receiving such satisfaction from the simpering look he gave her over his shoulder.

” _Yes,_ “ he ground out, only to receive another slap across the other ass cheek.

"How about a title, hm?”

“ ** _Liefje_** ,” he began, his patience beginning to wear thin, but before he could make that fact known, she walked around and knelt before him, then pressed her breasts to his face. She  _knew_ that he couldn’t resist with how aroused he already was, but before he could latch on to one of her pert nipples, she leaned away.

“If you want me to give you  _anything_ , you should submit. Though, I will say in all seriousness, if I do something you don’t like, just tell me to stop and I will, okay?” She punctuated it with a sweet kiss, to which he then nodded in return.

“I will. What would you have me call you, liefje..?” That brought the smirk back to her face, a devilish look for who was once such a kind woman. 

“How do you say ‘mistress’ in Nazairi?”

“Meesteres.”

“Then that will do.“ 

With a wink and another kiss, she leaned back in, allowing him to finally lavish the pink buds tipping her breasts with his affection. She hummed appreciatively down at him, watching with hooded eyes as he licked and suckled one nipple, then the other. Once satisfied, she pulled away once more, the small bud removed from his lips with a soft, wet  _pop_. Then, she tipped his chin upward so she could catch his mouth in another searing kiss. It was only momentary, but when she pulled away, she leaned in to nip his ear and whisper in a low, husky moan.

” _Good boy._ “

The lewdness with which she spoke to him sent a shiver through him, and he had to almost bite back the whimper when she stood to retrieve the object she would be using on him. How did she have such a power over him? It astounded him how readily his body responded to being so degraded, like it was betraying him to his lust and refusing to allow him any semblance of composure.

He heard the telltale rustling of metal buckles and leather, meaning she had donned the harness. For a while, he was left on his hands and knees, but despite his curiosity, he did not dare turn to look. Dettlaff was still _very_ unsure about all of this. Eventually he felt her small, soft hand running a soothing circle across his rear before trailing down to grip his drooping, yet almost painfully hard shaft. He involuntarily bucked into her grip, but he was met with another punishing smack. 

"Be still. I can always leave you here for a little longer, let you think about what you’ve done.”

“N-no..”

“No,  _what_?”

“ _Nee, Meesteres. Ik zal braaf zijn_. I will be good.”

His words were rewarded with a kiss to his backside and a few lazy strokes to his cock. He had to grit his teeth to stop himself from responding in reflex again, but his good behavior was getting him praise. 

Leonore used his precum as lubricant for her hand that pleasured him, but while he was distracted by her ministrations, she used the other to part his cheeks then tentatively dragged her tongue across his hole. The sensation was foreign, but it made him moan aloud. In his mind, he wondered if this was how it felt to be a  _whore._  It was how he was beginning to feel, especially with how she was pleasuring both his erection and now his entrance at the same time.

Her tongue prodded at the tight ring of muscle while her hand helped get him to relax enough for her to slip a slicked finger into him. Now  _this_ was the sensation he remembered and grown horribly fond of during lonely nights. She was receptive to every sound he made, listening carefully in case she caused him any harm. When she heard no sounds of protest, she delved into him to help further loosen him in preparation of what was to come. It took extraordinary willpower not to rock back onto her hand.

“Does that feel good?” she asked, her tone coy. Her answer was obvious, but she wanted to hear it from him.

“ _Ja, Mee– Aaahh.._ ” his voice trailed off into another debauched moan when she began to slip a second finger into him. She did so slowly and with great care, but once it was inside him, she began to move them about to stretch him further. All the while, his cock continued to receive attention, though it wasn’t enough to bring him any real satisfaction. 

His moans were constant, especially with how effectively she fingered him. The pleasure was light, but intense, and it had his arms struggling to keep him up. As soon as she started to scissor her fingers inside him, his arms buckled, forcing him onto his elbows. The movement served to only push her further inside, so she took the opportunity to add a third finger. It was the most he’d ever taken, and though it made him hiss through his teeth, he still couldn’t stop his growing need to push back against her. 

Before long, she completely removed both of her hands from him. The cry of protest that flew past his lips came as a shock to him, but it was replaced with another whimper when he felt something cold and wet drip onto and  _into_ his hole. It was lubricant - a sweet-smelling one at that - but he didn’t have any time to think of it before the head of her smooth wooden cock pressed into him. She stopped, with just the tip barely keeping him open, and he bit his hand to stop all of the humiliating noises that threatened to escape his mouth.

“Now, now. I want to be able to hear you. Get your hand out of your mouth before I see fit to punish you.”

Obediently yet reluctantly, he removed his palm from his mouth.

“Y-yes, Meesteres.”

“You’re doing so good, love. I’m proud of you. Would you like to be rewarded?”

“ _Yes,_ Meesteres.”

“And what would you like for your reward?”

Suddenly, he went silent. Did he really have to come out and  _say it_? That he wanted to be taken like this, on his hands and knees, at the mercy of his woman? That he wanted to have her finally just shove the dildo inside him and rut in him like he was a bitch in heat?  _That he wanted her to_ ** _fuck him_** _like a_ ** _slut_** _..?_

A softer, yet still sharp slap jerked him from his conflicted thoughts, but he had to look at this from another perspective. His ass was primed, his precum dripped onto the floor beneath him, and she was ready and waiting for him to give her the okay. That in mind, he ever so slightly allowed himself to press back against her.

“T-take me, Meesteres.”

Oh, but of course she wouldn’t make it that easy for him.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” She mimicked his earlier words, and he all but growled back at her in his increasing frustration. If she hadn’t pulled away a few inches, he’d have probably pushed himself onto her.

“What would you have me say?!”

“Get creative. Quickly. I have no problems using this thing on myself tonight if I have to.”

That made his resolve crumble, his words coming out as nothing more than a filthy, horny plea.

“ _Please, Meesteres. Fuck me,_   _take me,_ ** _rut in me._** ” The low, almost diabolical chuckle behind him made him shudder. Then, there was a hand in his hair tugging sharply to jerk his head back so she may be the one to growl at him.

“ _Good_ boy.”

Then she was finally giving him what he wanted, all but shoving the slicked toy into him. He wailed, his head still pulled back by her fingers tangled in his black curls and making his back arch. At first, she was slow as a precaution, but when he immediately rocked his hips back against her, she began a quick pace. Though his lips moved, the only sounds that came out were swears in every other language he could think of, though they all came out as moans and pleasured sobs.  _Never_ did he think something like this could feel  _so good._ It was like a whole new world of sexual satisfaction was being opened to him, and all because his lover decided  _she_ wanted to be the one to take  _him_ this time. 

With each thrust inside of him, he pushed back against her hips harder until she had to grip his for better balance. Hell, she didn’t even have to thrust any more with how he was fucking himself on her false cock. It did nothing to deter her; instead, it gave her cause to take him harder, faster,  _deeper_ until he was crying out his release into the air, her name on his lips and his seed spurting out onto the floor beneath him.

Had he the strength to do so, he’d have moved over to the side at least slightly, but with his limbs shaking from the sheer exertion, he simply collapsed onto the puddle of his own cum on the floor. The wooden phallus slipped from him in the process, but he only barely noticed it. His labored breathing was all he could hear for a moment until he felt Leonore’s hand running soothing circles across his back.

“Are you okay..? I didn’t mean to get so rough with you there, though I have to admit, you seemed to be enjoying that  _way_ more than I thought you would.”

Dettlaff said nothing at first, not until he got his breath back.

“Liefje.. We will not be doing that again.” At least, not for a  _very_ long time.

“Was it that bad..?”

“ _No._ Just the opposite.”

“Then why–”

“Because I am going to take you until you are capable of little more than laying in a pool of your _own_   _mess._ ” When he finally looked back at her, there was a glint in his eye that told her she’d be lucky to walk again once he finished recovering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik zal braaf zijn = I'll be good


	17. Son

While travelling through Velen, a place Dettlaff detested for its gassy swamps and excess necrophages, what he expected least of all was how many children were without families. War came with many horrid aftermaths, but so see how many homes had been torn apart brought him only aching.

“Liefje, why are we here? This place is filled with only misery and broken homes.” They traveled by horseback only for the fact that Leonore was incapable of handling the speed with which he could travel while carrying her. It always brought about dizzying bouts of illness, so he had purchased a deep chestnut steed to ride alongside her beloved mare, Lola. Now, though, he wished he could make short work of their trip so he didn’t have to bear witness to all of the destitution.

“To visit my family, love. They live in Novigrad, but they don’t have the funds to come see me instead. Besides, I’d like to introduce you to each other. My grandmother might not approve of you immediately, but I know my sister and her children will adore you when we visit them after Gramma.”

“Why would your grandmother disapprove..?”

“She’s simply distrusting of men. Just call her ‘grandma’ and let her talk your ear off. It’s the quickest way to her heart.”

“Odd,” he muttered, but she did not hear him over the clattering of hooves on cobblestone.

It was late when they approached the city, so there weren’t so many people out in the streets, but Novigrad was a large city, and thus would always be busy. While there were no crowds, the occasional drunkard would stumble in front of either of their horses, making them have to maneuver around them, much to his irritation. He was decent when it came to riding, but he did it so infrequently that he had to try to relearn before setting off on their journey. Leonore, however, could very well be the Goddess of Equines with how skillfully she wove her steed through groups of people without bumping into a one. Admiration for his lover blossomed inside him, or it would if he could only keep up without having to tug the reins every few feet.

They entered the city through the Portside Gate, but had to travel all the way through the city to get to The Bits. Why they were given such unappealing names when there was also Glory Gate or even St. Gregory’s Square was beyond the vampire’s comprehension. Upon seeing the district in which Leonore’s family resided, he immediately understood; the buildings were decrepit, the streets were filthy, and the homeless were everywhere. They couldn’t ride more than a few paces without someone begging them for coin. As kind as he was despite appearance, Dettlaff only had so much to give and needed it for the journey back to Leonore’s home in Brugge.

She rode on, not paying the misfortuned any mind whilst simultaneously managing to practically remain unnoticed. Yet, they asked him for his money when his mate was the first to stride past them. When he finally managed to catch up (though not before reluctantly parting with more crowns than he wished to), he inquired as to why this was.

“It’s because you’re a foreigner,” she explained, “and usually foreigners mean plenty of money. Just politely decline and tell them you’ve not nearly as much money as they seem to think. I’ve gone through this before, too - they’ll understand.”

With that, she was off again, riding ahead as she searched for the derelict house her family called home. Left alone again, he sighed and watched her as she focused on trying to remember where her grandmother lived. There wasn’t much else to look at other than her retreating form until something caught his attention. It was laughter, then a shrill cry, like someone was hurt and others watched in amusement. As loathe as he was to be there any longer than he needed to be, something in him brought him to a screeching halt. With a firm tug of the reins, he brought his horse to a stop and dismounted.

The chestnut stallion was secured to a post, and he inwardly hoped no one would steal his steed whilst his back was turned. His ears were tuned to the sound of the faint cries and notably childish laughter, but he did his best to also keep some of his focus on his unattended horse.

Down an alley, he found three dirty children standing around a crate - one crouched over it while the other two were blocking its contents from Dettlaff’s view. As soon as he got too close, the children took notice of him and ran, no doubt leery of strangers thanks to living for so long on the streets. Part of him wanted to stop them, maybe even inquire after their parents and why they played in dark alleys unsupervised, but the soft cries brought his attention to the crate.

His heart stopped when he saw the tiny, dark-blue hands waving angrily from inside the wooden box, face red and voice raw from screaming. The infant laid in its own filth, a rag haphazardly draped across its malnourished body - perhaps a sign of remorse moreso than an attempt to keep it warm. Impulse took him, leading him to kneel beside the crate and lift the weak babe from the makeshift bed. It was barely big enough for him to need both hands to hold it. There were no clothes on its body, not even a cloth for its waste; the vampire felt the utmost pity and despair at seeing the baby boy discarded like this.

With the rag being the only thing to use, Dettlaff at the very least wrapped it around the child’s lower half to prevent him from making even more of a mess of himself then proceeded to swaddle him in the trailing tail of his overcoat. Anger and distress welled up in him as he watched the baby go from starved and desperate screams to pained whimpers, the comfort of finally having something to warm him being the first sign of relief in who knew how long.

There was no time to try to find who dared leave an infant to die of hunger and cold in a filthy alley - Dettlaff  _ran_  back to his horse and mounted carefully. The jostling further upset the babe cradled protectively in his arms, but he couldn’t do much to appease him when he was trying to ride with such precious cargo. Leonore had ridden so far ahead of him, he had to use his keen senses to try to find her. Her scent was very specific - rose, sugar, and lavender; it wasn’t long before he’d caught up to her, this time in too much of a rush to care about whether his horse knocked into anyone along the way.

Her grandmother’s home was, though barely, one of the nicer homes in the district. Lola was tied up outside with a pail of water set beside her as a makeshift trough. Before his horse could even make a full stop, he was dismounting and striding purposefully to the door, baby boy still trying to scream with a hoarse and weak voice. Whatever conversation was happening inside, it stopped abruptly as soon as he pushed open the door with his shoulder.

“Dettlaff?? Where have you been? Why the hell do you have a baby?!”

Leonore was on her feet and rushing to his side, but he refused to let her take the child from him, no matter that she was his mate.

“I am keeping him warm. He needs food and a bath - please, I will explain when he is cared for.”

An elderly woman who was once sitting on a wooden chair off to one side of the room was standing and quickly hobbling to an adjacent room without a word. Leonore urged him to follow, so he did, but he did not expect for the old lady to be so speedy about fetching a rag and a jug of goat’s milk. The cloth, though not the cleanest, was soaked in the milk then the corner pressed lightly to the babe’s lips. Immediately, it latched on and began suckling. Relief flooded everyone in the room.

“Thank you,” Dettlaff sighed, content now that he was able to feed the poor child. “I found him in a crate. A group of children appeared to have been attempting to play with him, but they fled when I arrived. He was barely covered in this and completely bare beneath it. I.. I could not leave him to die.”

The two women exchanged a look, both cracking smiles that he was ignorant to - his focus was on the infant and ensuring it fed well.

“Gramma, do you still have the baby clothes my nieces wore?”

“Mhm, gimme a moment,” the wizened woman uttered, and though she appeared feeble, she had a spring in her step that said she didn’t feel nearly as old as she looked. Before too long, she had a box of clothes set before them.

While the women sifted through the children’s clothing, Dettlaff couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of the baby he held. Dark, feathery soft hair covered his head in a thin layer, though whether it was black or a dark brown, it was too short to tell. His eyes never opened long enough for the vampire to tell what color they might be. The child was small, thin, and pale, all a direct result of malnourishment, but Dettlaff was pleased to see that holding him so close was making the blue in his small fingers and toes recede.

“Dettlaff? We’re going to heat up some water to bathe it–”

“Him.”

“Right, I’m sorry. We’re going to draw him a bath. Will you be alright waiting?”

“Yes, but please, be quick. He is covered in filth.” Though there was concern in his tone, Dettlaff was so preoccupied with feeding that he hadn’t noticed the elderly woman approaching him from the side.

“Ya’ve got some nasty-lookin’ claws on ya. Make sure t'keep those clean. Babies like clingin’ n’ suckin’ on fingers.” She reached forward and gently pressed a frail finger to the child’s hand, and Dettlaff watched in silent awe as it closed around her finger as though on instinct.

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you.” Granted, it was something he already knew, but the old lady was just trying to help. “I’ve never held an infant before today, but I will do my utmost to be careful.”

“Never held a babe? Well, ya seem t'be doin’ just fine. I’ve held plenty, so gimme a holler if ya need help.”

“I will. Thank you, oma.” His speech gave the woman pause, but she seemed to think twice about saying anything in favor of leaving to assist with making up a bath.

The baby continued to suckle on the milk-soaked rag for nearly half an hour, but when he was finally finished, he opened his mouth to begin crying anew. This time his screams were piercing, agitating the vampire’s sensitive hearing and making him flinch. Now, he was at a loss of what to do. He only panicked for but a moment before Leonore came rushing in.

“Here, please allow me,” she said over the harsh wails, and this time he let her take the child with no resistance. Carefully, she situated the baby at her shoulder and began patting his cloth-covered rear and humming softly; it was like she’d done this a hundred times before. Soon, there was an audible belch from the tiny body, then silence once again.

“You need to burp him after being fed or he’ll get a tummy ache.” Leonore handed him the baby once again, but now he was suddenly unsure of himself.

“How did you do that..?”

“You just put him up on your shoulder like this,” she helped by rearranging the now fussing infant so that he was in the proper position in Dettlaff’s hands, “then just firmly pat his back. Sometimes it helps to pat the rear, too. I’ve done this for my nieces, so I sort of know what I’m doing.”

“This is the first time I’ve so much as touched an infant. I will need help,” Dettlaff admitted.

“It’s fine. Just be patient. I’ve found that if you pay close enough attention, you’ll begin to hear a difference in cries. His hungry cry will sound very different compared to his hurt cry or his sleepy cry.”

“I did not know this, thank you. Is the bath ready, liefje?”

“It is. It’s why I came in here, that and to help get him calmed back down.” She then led him into the adjacent room, a kitchen, and guided him to the bath.

Her grandmother stood with a handful of rags of varying degrees of cleanliness.

“Take your pick. Whatever ya don’t use can be for diapering.”

“Thank you, oma,” he responded politely as he took one of the cloths and dipped it into the warm water.

While Dettlaff busied himself with tenderly cleaning away the dirt and refuse from the baby’s body, Leonore left to grab something with which to clothe him. In the meantime, Leonore’s grandmother stood and watched.

“I ain’t well-versed in anything but Common, son. You’ll have t'tell me what 'oma’ means.”

“It is Nazairi for grandma. I will call you something else if it bothers you.” He only looked up when the old woman laughed, her aged eyes turned up in a wrinkled smile.

“Son, if it bugged me, ya’d know. I’m pleased t'see my grandbaby found someone with a good head on 'is shoulders. And a natural-born father t'boot.”

The old woman’s words made his heart soar. There were many times he’d let himself imagine having a family with his beloved, but the prospect of a vampiric child being born to a human woman wasn’t a promising one. Such a pregnancy could kill her more surely than one with a mortal child, and that was if it was even possible. It was no secret that he yearned for his own children, but he’d much rather protect his mate than put her in such imminent danger, even if it meant she bore him no children.

“I’ve entertained the thought of having offspring,” he stated simply.

“Well then get on it. Ya ain’t gonna be young forever, and I’d like t'see some handsome great-grandbabies from my favorite 'fore I finally kick the bucket.” Her crass way of speaking was a bit abrasive to him, but his stomach still twisted into knots just thinking about his lover’s tummy swollen with his babe.

For a moment, he let himself imagine the now cleaned infant in his hands having Leonore’s hazel eyes or even his own striking blue ones. It was a poor idea on his part, for it only left him getting even more attached to the small child. He was so small, so much so that the vampire feared he may slip between his fingers, though the very idea was absurd. The more he gazed at the weak little thing, the more his chest began to ache.

“What.. What will become of him..?” asked the vampire apprehensively, his voice low and full of concern.

“ _That_ ,” the crone replied, “is up t’ _you_. Now, if you’re done bathin’ 'im, get some clothes on the poor thing. He’ll freeze otherwise.”

Dettlaff nodded briefly before returning to the other room, a dry rag in his hand now to properly clothe the baby. Leonore had laid out a number of little linen gowns to keep him warm, but she had to wait for her lover to return so she could see what size would fit the best. Nothing they had would fit very well with how tiny he was, but they made do with the smallest one they had. More fussing from the infant ensued, but once finally bundled up, the older woman instructed them both on how to properly swaddle him in a blanket. As soon as he was wrapped up, arms and legs secured in a cotton cocoon, the baby fell asleep. Pleased that he was finally resting, Dettlaff gently cradled and rocked the infant.

“Will you name him..?” Leonore asked tentatively, unsure if the man was even contemplating keeping the child or if he was going to try finding him a suitable home.

“Should I..?” It seemed even Dettlaff was unsure of what he’d planned to do. It was purely instinct and the desire to protect that drove him to bring the babe with him. He didn’t think he’d actually be keeping him, but who else would he go to? “Are we to raise him..? I admit, I did not think this through.”

“Well, I see no harm in doing so, though it’ll be a huge responsibility. If he was abandoned, I’d like nothing more than to ensure he has a good home. He’ll probably die otherwise. Besides, you’ve told me time and again how you want kids.” There was only kindness and warmth in her gaze, and Dettlaff could not love this woman more than he did in that moment.

“And you would have me name him?” When she nodded, he paused in thought. It was another minute or so before he came to a decision. “Ezra.”

“Ezra? You’re certain?”

“I am. His name is Ezra.”

“Any surname? I’m unsure of how the Nazairi go about that, but I know you go by 'van der Eretein.’”

“It signifies my place of origin. The Eretein valley in Nazair is where I once made my home. If I gave him a surname, it would best be 'van der Steeg’ or 'van der Stad.’”

“What do they mean?”

“Steeg is alley. Stad is city.”

“I’d rather call him Ezra of the city rather than of the alley.”

“Ezra van der Stad,” Dettlaff uttered to himself, then again with more confidence to test the sound of it. “Is this alright by you, liefje?”

“I like it,” she smiled, then looked back at her grandmother for approval. The elder, standing silently to the side as she watched the unfolding scene, nodded. “It’s settled. I’ll see about gathering some extra clothing and the like to take home with us for him.”

Mindlessly, Dettlaff nodded. He was in a state of euphoria. Though it was not how he’d intended for it to be, he now had a son, and he would do all in his power to give him all of the love and care he deserved.

“ _Ik hou van jou, mijn zoon_ ,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to the infant’s forehead. The babe slept peacefully, blissfully unaware that he was now held and coddled by the man who would be his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik hou van jou, mijn zoon = I love you, my son


	18. Mischief

Children could be incredibly endearing when they wanted to be. For instance, though he was no more than two, Dettlaff’s son, Ezra, made it a point to hug his Papa at  _least_  every time he saw him. His tiny arms would wrap about the much bigger man’s leg, then the child would run off to play with his toys. However, what all parents - even adoptive ones - had to learn the very hard way was that kids knew they were cute and were very adept at using it to their advantage. So, when the young boy ran up to embrace Dettlaff for the fifth time in only an hour, it was becoming quite clear he was attempting to get away with something.

When he ran off again, he went straight for his parents’ room. It was made explicit that this was not, in fact, a play room, but how could he resist when there were so many fun things to play with in there? It had taken him a while to realize that you had to turn the weird metal bit sticking out of the door to open it, and as soon as he found out, why, that opened up a whole new world of possibilities for him.

The very first thing he decided would make a good toy was the large black coat he usually saw Papa wear. Shiny buckles caught his interest until he saw the sparkle of the moth brooch thanks to the sunlight peering in from the window. Such a trinket would look wonderful on his stuffed rabbit, and so he tugged at the fancy trinket until the pin holding it came loose and let it detach from the leather frock. Ah, sweet success, and now a new toy for him to play with. Papa would find it eventually, but for now, he would toddle back to his room and show his bunny friend what a lovely bauble he’d retrieved.

Hm.. Actually, now seemed like a good time to go give his Papa a hug.

—

Dettlaff’s ears were attuned to the various noises his son made, but with both the nursery and his bedroom being adjacent, it didn’t occur to him that the opening door could be the one to his own room. No, it wasn’t until the toddler came back for yet another hug that he realized he had made quite the error. In Ezra’s little fist was the brooch Regis had gifted him so very long ago - a prized possession that he wore with no small amount of pride.

“Ezra?! Kleintje, how did you get into my room? You do _not_  play with this!” Before Dettlaff had the chance to take it from his son, the little boy panicked.

“ _NO_.” With that single word, Ezra chucked it with all of his little strength. Though the trinket barely flew a meager foot, its collision with the hard ground snapped a wing clean off.

For a moment, the vampire saw red, and laid a swift swat to the ornery little toddler’s behind. As soon as his hand made contact,  _oh_  did Ezra  _scream_. After two years of dealing with his child’s tantrums and misbehavior, he’d grown quite adept at handling the outbursts with solely stern words and the threat of the dreaded ‘time out,’ but not once had Papa ever laid a hand on the boy. Mama had done so plenty, but it never affected him in the same manner as Papa’s punishment did now.

Immediately, Dettlaff was filled with remorse, but he was caught between consoling his devastated son and mourning the loss of the first gift he’d ever received. He had to tell himself that it was a material object, and thus, not nearly as important as his child’s crushed heart. With a sigh, he scooped the toddler into his arms. Though Ezra continued to scream, he buried his face in Papa’s shoulder and threw his tiny arms around his neck.

“Hush, kleintje. I am sorry, I should never have lost my temper,” Dettlaff murmured against his sobbing child’s hair. When he began rubbing the boy’s back and gently swaying to comfort him, Ezra eventually went from piercing shrieks to poorly stifled whines. “You  _know_ Papa’s room is off limits. We will need to start locking the doors now with how clever you are getting. Look at me.”

Slowly, Ezra lifted his head from his father’s shoulder, tears streaking his face and snot dripping from his round little nose. It had some of his dark brown hair plastered to his wet face, but it was brushed aside by a large clawed hand. With little regard for his own cleanliness, Dettlaff used the edge of his sleeve to wipe his son’s face clean.

“I love you. Though you do things that cause me to lose my patience, I cherish you, kleintje. Now, let us go find Konijn. He will make a better playmate for you than my belongings.” The faint smile that Dettlaff gave his son was returned with a beaming grin at the mention of his beloved stuffed bunny. The brooch could be repaired, but for now, he had more important matters to attend. Without sparing the jeweled brooch another glance, he took his son to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kleintje = Little one  
> Konijn = Bunny


End file.
